Harry Potter and the Inquisitor of Hogwarts
by Ian Hycrest
Summary: Harry is determined to root out the corruption in the Ministry and the Wizengamot, and to bring to justice those responsible for the tragedy of the previous year. It won't be easy. The law protects the rich and powerful, at the expense of the innocent. The only way to win a dirty fight is to fight dirty. Book 3 of The Cry of Freedom. Updates every Tuesday.
1. The story thus far

_*** The following summary contains spoilers from the previous books. You should probably read them first. ***_

_The story thus far…_

_Harry Potter and the Vault of Time_

_During his first trip to Gringotts, Harry discovers a small box with a few odds and ends from his parents. He randomly grabs one item, a small wooden box, and later finds that it is, in fact, a shrunken trunk. Inside the trunk is a vanishing cabinet that can be used to access a small training facility his parents had built, where time goes much faster than normal._

_Taking advantage of this opportunity to learn some magic on his own before starting Hogwarts, Harry spends his nights in the facility, and, in addition to studying, begins to read his mother's diary. He learns that his parents had been a bit suspicious of Dumbledore, and so, wanting to learn more, he returns to Diagon Alley. He meets Florean Fortescue, a kind old man who owns an ice-cream shop. Florean confirms some of Harry's concerns, and encourages him to keep his eyes open when he goes to Hogwarts to avoid being fooled by Dumbledore's manipulations._

_Harry is not overly impressed with the classes at Hogwarts, especially Potions, where the professor seems to be going out of his way to pick on Harry. After Harry is punished for fighting in the halls (while defending himself from Malfoy and his goons), he is shunned and isolated. He eventually quits the Quidditch team. At the end of the year, Harry realizes that someone is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone from the forbidden corridor, so he, Neville and Hermione try to protect it. They make it through the obstacles, but Harry is the only one to enter the final room. He discovers that the would-be thief is Quirrell, who is possessed by Voldemort. He manages to kill Quirrell, but wanting to avoid possible punishment, deliberately injures himself and takes a potion to temporarily erase the memory._

_His deception works. Dumbledore has no idea that Harry has recovered the Stone from the mirror. Now, realizing that Voldemort is still around, Harry is determined to prepare for the war to come. But whatever he does, he'll need to be careful to keep it a secret, because he's still not sure how much he can trust the headmaster._

_Harry Potter and the Hands of Justice_

_Over the summer, Harry tries to get himself emancipated, freeing himself from Dumbledore's control, but this backfires when the headmaster instead arranges for an apprenticeship, which gives him even more control over Harry. When the 'heir of Slytherin' begins attacking students, Harry is able to quickly determine that Ginny is behind the attacks, and finds the enchanted diary that was controlling her. With this crisis averted, Harry turns his attention to the narcissistic professor Gilderoy Lockhart, eventually proving that the man is a fraud. Remus Lupin is hired in his place, and proves to be a much better teacher. Harry realizes that Lupin had been friends with his parents, but is disappointed when his new professor doesn't have any interest in his friends' son._

_Harry is surprised when the attacks on muggle-borns resumes a few months later. After obtaining the Marauder's Map from the Weasley Twins (without their knowledge) he identifies the culprits. He also learns the truth behind the attack on his parents, when he discovers that Ron Weasley's pet rat is in fact, the traitor Peter Pettigrew. With assistance from Peter Wilson, an associate of his parents, and an American Technomancer named Chad Pfluegerman, they are able to expose Pettigrew's crimes. To Harry's dismay, however, the ministry refuses to release his godfather, Sirius Black, instead holding him pending an investigation into other possible crimes._

_When the culprits behind the attacks on the muggle-borns are given a slap on the wrist as punishment for the brutal assaults, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands, capturing and torturing the Slytherins responsible. This draws an immediate reaction from the Ministry, and a number of innocent students are arrested on flimsy evidence. Harry teams up with several other students, including Cedric Diggory, to prove that the students who have been arrested are innocent. They are successful, but Harry learns that his godfather has been killed, supposedly while trying to escape Azkaban._

_Harry, Peter and Chad, along with an old hitwizard named Henry MacArthur, enter the Chamber of Secrets and kill the basilisk, which they sell for a substantial sum. Now, with some real money to use, Harry vows that he will destroy those who were responsible for the death of his godfather._


	2. Chapter 1: Bold Moves

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

The Cry of Freedom

Book 3: Harry Potter and the Inquisitor of Hogwarts

"_When Chairman Wilson asked me to speak to you all today, he suggested that I talk about the Three Wars, and how much our society has progressed in the decade since. Well, to be honest, I don't really want to talk about that._

"_Obviously, our society has progressed. We see evidence of that fact in the world around us every single day. What good would it do to pat ourselves on the back and give little speeches about how much better the world is because of what we all did?_

"_Instead, I want to talk about what I consider to be the gravest threat any society can face. One that, as much as I wish it were otherwise, I can already see beginning to take hold even here. The threat that I speak of can be summed up in one word. That word begins with a 'C'._

"_Now, I'm sure that some of you are thinking that the word I am referring to is 'Corruption'. And that's a good guess, but it's not correct. Corruption is bad, there's no doubt about it. But corruption is powerless so long as there are good men and women who are willing to stand against it._

"_The true threat to any society is complacency. We saw that with the Wizengamot and the Ministry in the years after the Blood War. Not all of them were corrupt. In fact, most of them were reasonably honorable individuals. But they didn't want to stand up against those amoral few who were the source of so many of their society's problems. They were comfortable with how things were going and didn't want to rock the boat. And those outside of the government failed as well. They were quick to complain, but never banded together to fix the problems they saw. And so, slowly, one small step at a time, Magical Britain fell deeper and deeper into a cesspit of crime and corruption, and it took a teenage boy to force people to confront the true horror that their government had become._

"_I joined Harry Potter's group fairly early on, before their plan to expose the corruption in the ministry had come to fruition. It was a difficult time. We all took risks, and we knew that if we were caught, a stay in Azkaban was the best we could hope for. But, more importantly, we knew that it was worth it."_

_\- Excerpt from a speech by DragonFire Chief Director Nymphadora Black, at a celebration commemorating the tenth anniversary of the signing of the Pax Britannia Accords_

* * *

Chapter 1: Bold Moves

Harry panted heavily as he sprinted through the forest, wand held aloft, ready to cast at the first sign that his pursuers had caught up to him. Spying one particularly large tree, he dashed over, and climbed quickly, forcing himself to breathe more slowly.

With any luck, he'd managed to put some distance between himself and his opponents. They would have to split up in order to find him, and he would have a better chance to pick them off one by one.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he froze, holding as close to still as possible. Slowly, he turned his head, his movements smooth and deliberate to ensure that he wasn't spotted. It was hard to see exactly where the man was looking, given the heavy Death Eater robes he was wearing, but the man gave no indication that he had noticed Harry.

From Harry could see, he judged that the Death Eater's path would take him past the tree the dark-haired boy had climbed, coming about ten yards at the closest. Gripping his wand tighter, he leapt from his perch. His enemy turned, clearly startled, but it was too late. Harry shot a blasting charm on the ground just in front of his target, who raised his arms to block the sudden spray of earth with a cry of surprise. Harry smiled grimly as the red light of his stunning spell slammed into the man, who dropped to the ground.

Unfortunately, the noise had been enough to alert the others. Harry ducked down and rolled off to one side as another man came into view, firing spells with reckless abandon. Fortunately for Harry, the man was not a particularly accurate spellcaster, with very few of the spells even coming close enough that they might have hit had Harry remained in place. Harry's returning spellfire had no such problems. As the Death Eater hit the ground, Harry spun around rapidly, wand held at the ready.

_That was two. Where's the third?_ He thought as he turned, eyes straining for any sign of his last opponent.

A sharp crack behind him, followed by a muffled curse had him spinning around frantically, wand already moving to cast another stunner, but there was nobody there. Mentally cursing himself for falling for such an obvious ploy, Harry began to turn around again, but he was too late. Red light filled his vision, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and slowly stood, rubbing his forehead. With a sigh, he turned to his left, where the 'Death Eaters' were standing, hoods removed. Peter and Chad looked a little sheepish at how easily they had been bested by a teenager, but Mac (as Henry MacArthur had gruffly informed the others they should call him if they were all going to be working together) was focused entirely on Harry.

"So, Potter, what did you do wrong?" he barked.

Harry took a deep breath. "I fell for your decoy. You cast some sort of spell off to one side to distract me, and I fell for it."

"Yes, but you made plenty more mistakes before that. Can you identify any of them?"

Harry thought for a moment, rubbing his forehead again in a vain attempt to dispel the lingering headache from being stunned. Mac's spells had a great deal of punch. "After I stunned Peter, I stopped moving, when I should have kept running. A stationary target is usually more vulnerable."

"Unless…" the old hitwizard prompted.

"Unless you're more familiar with the terrain, and have a good idea of which direction they'll be coming from. But even then, you're vulnerable to flanking attacks as soon as they discover your position," Harry recited.

"Good. The other main thing I want to point out is that when you realized that the noise you heard was just a diversion, you tried to turn around. As soon as you realize something is wrong, you dodge, you duck, you do whatever you can to get out of the line of fire. Even though you turned around, you were still in the same spot, completely vulnerable," the large man growled, his eyes boring into Harry's.

"Perhaps we should also address what Harry did correctly," Peter suggested in a mild tone.

Mac didn't seem too enthusiastic about this idea but conceded reluctantly. "Your speed and accuracy with your spells has improved. Unlike some other people," he added, with a sidewise glance at Chad.

The American rolled his eyes. "I'm an enchanter. I cast spells at stationary objects a few inches away from my wand. I'm not accurate at a distance; so sue me," he muttered.

"And using a blasting spell on the ground was a good way to put Wilson off his guard without doing any real damage to him. Just make sure that in real life, you follow it up with a broken limb or two, and take or destroy his wand."

Harry accepted the instruction gratefully with a nod of his head. Mac was a tough instructor, and had no patience for fools, being quick to chastise Harry if he made the same mistakes repeatedly. But Harry could tell that he was getting better, even though they'd been working on training exercises like this for just over a week.

"We should do it again," Mac grunted, but Peter came to his rescue.

"Not today," the man replied. "We have a guest coming in about half an hour, and it wouldn't be wise for Harry to meet a member of the press looking like that."

Grateful for the excuse to avoid more 'training', though he was still a little uncomfortable with the upcoming meeting, Harry trudged back to the hunting cabin that served as their base of operations.

The money from the basilisk had proven very useful, and though they were doing everything they could to avoid drawing notice from the Ministry of Magic (which meant that they couldn't exchange any of the foreign currency for galleons), it wasn't a problem to trade for non-magical currencies in other countries, which they then converted to pounds sterling.

Using the non-magical currency, Peter had purchased a reasonably sized tract of land in one of the more sparsely inhabited regions of the Scottish Highlands. As a licensed hit-wizard, Mac could legally cast simple, non-lethal wards, including, fortunately for Harry, a masking spell that blocked the ministry's sensors, allowing the underage wizard to cast spells without fear of detection from the Trace. This gave the group an area that they could use for training, without having to spend long periods in the time compression vault Harry had inherited from his parents.

Harry showered quickly, dressing in simple, but high-quality clothing purchased just a few weeks ago. Given exactly who was coming, he wasn't sure that he needed to be particularly concerned about his manner of dress, but it never hurt to look nice. After so many years of being forced to wear Dudley's massive hand-me-downs, having smart, well-fitting clothes always brought a smile to Harry's face.

Harry exited the bathroom and made his way to the front room, where Peter was waiting. "You sure you want to do this?" the man asked. Harry was pleased to note that there was no suggestion of disapproval or even doubting in his friend's voice. Rather, the man simply wanted to give Harry one more opportunity to ensure that this was the path he wanted to take. It was, after all, not an insignificant decision that he was making.

"Yeah, I'm sure," the teenager replied. "I know it's a big step, and it's going to draw a lot of criticism, but in the long run, I think it will help."

A knock sounded on the door, drawing Harry and Peter's attention. "And, second thoughts or not, it's a little too late to change my mind now," Harry concluded.

He walked over, took a deep breath, fixed a smile on his face, and opened the door.

"Hello, Harry Potter," a beaming Luna said, her beatific smile glowing brightly. A little too brightly to be normal, Harry realized. _Was she using some sort of glow-in-the-dark toothpaste?_ He forced the thought aside.

"Hello, Luna," Harry replied. "I wasn't expecting you to come today."

"Daddy sometimes likes to bring me along, both so that I can learn about the family business, and because it's sometimes helpful for me to keep notes so that Daddy doesn't get too distracted."

Just then, a new face appeared in front of Harry so suddenly that he almost thought the man had apparated in, though of course, that was impossible, given the wards in place. The white-haired wizard extended an arm, pushing the blindingly bright orange sleeve back to expose his hand, a pleasant smile on his slightly cross-eyed face.

"Xenophilius Lovegood, at your service," he said, his voice bold and stately. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter. My Luna has said many things about you."

"Hopefully, they were all good things," Harry replied with a smile. "But please, no need to call me mister. I'm just Harry."

At this, Xenophilius smiled even more broadly (if such a thing were even possible). "Just Harry," he repeated, his voice full of wonder. "_Just_ Harry. Harry the _Just_." He gazed past Harry, as though seeing something in the distance. "A truly wonderous name."

Harry couldn't help but stare a little, glancing back at forth between Luna and her father, not quite sure what to say. "Uh, yeah," he muttered lamely, before pushing past his confusion. "Well, uh, why don't you come inside," he said, opening the door a little further and stepping out of the way. As he did, he turned to look at Peter, who looked as confused as he felt. He just hoped this didn't all turn out to be a big mistake.

"So, Mister Lovegood," he began.

"Please, call me Xeno," the man interjected.

"Alright, Xeno. I'm sure you're wondering why I've asked you to come here today. The fact is, You-Know-Who still exists as some sort of wraith, and is, even now, likely trying to regain a body. I encountered him at Hogwarts a little more than a year ago, and barely survived. Perhaps even worse, due to the incredible levels of corruption and incompetence in the Ministry of Magic, Magical Britain is in no position to stand against him should he succeed in regaining a physical form."

Whatever reaction Harry had been expecting, he certainly didn't get it. "Ooh, wonderful," Luna chirped as she began to jot notes down on the parchment she had produced from… somewhere.

* * *

A little more than an hour later, Harry was feeling quite a bit more optimistic about his plan. Yes, Xeno was a bit odd, but once they had actually started in on the interview, the man had become more focused. There were still some odd questions relating to such things as Heliopaths (whatever they were) and dental floss, but thankfully, those had been the exception, not the rule.

Soon enough, the boy was bidding his guests farewell. As the door shut, Harry made eye contact with Peter.

"So, what do you think?"

The man sighed. "I'll admit, he's not quite as crazy once he gets into it, no matter what his clothes might suggest. But still, it's going to be rough for you, taking a stance like that."

"Well, if anybody is willing to listen, I can testify to everything under veritaserum. Not to mention my memories of the events." That comment brought another thought to mind. "Speaking of memories, have you had any luck finding a pensieve?"

"Still nothing. They're shockingly rare, and the people that have them don't want to give them up. But I'll keep looking."

Harry nodded. "Well, do what you can. And what about the search for a tutor?" he asked.

"I received an owl from the former professor from Durmstrang. He's interested, but we still need to work out the details."

Harry grunted in acknowledgment, then looked at his watch. "I need to be getting home. Is there anything else before I go?"

"Did you tell your aunt and uncle about the upcoming trip to France?" Peter asked.

"No, I forgot. I'll tell them when I get home. Isobel Caron, that's the healer's name, right?"

"That's correct," came the reply.

"Okay, well I'll tell them," Harry said, taking a deep breath. Talking with Xeno had been… intense, in some ways. Perhaps the enormity of what he had started was finally catching up to him. After all, he had, in essence, just declared war on the ministry. _No, _he reminded himself. _They declared war on me when they killed my godfather. I'm just acknowledging that war._

Some of the inner turmoil he was feeling must have shown on his face, for Peter smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure it'll all work out. I'll be by to pick you up Tuesday morning," he said.

"Thanks," Harry replied, before grabbing the portkey Mac had made. "Lumberjack," he said clearly, and felt the familiar navel-jerk. The wind howled around him as Harry shot through the air. The trip ended as suddenly as it began as he crashed down in a deserted clump of trees not far from his house.

With a groan, Harry picked himself up, and brushed the dirt off his clothes. "Every time," he muttered. The adults all assured him that he would get better with practice, but apparently it would be a long time coming.

Harry took his time walking home, enjoying the tranquil night air as he thought about what he had done.

He wasn't an idiot, no matter what Snape said. He knew that many people would not believe his words, particularly when those words were printed in a magazine like the Quibbler. But, in the end, he would be proven correct. Hopefully, that would convince people that they were wrong to doubt him in the first place.

And though he knew that he would face some scorn and opposition, he could handle it. It was nothing that he hadn't dealt with at Hogwarts, after all.

The important thing was that the threat of Voldemort's return gave Harry's words some weight. In some ways, it was a little amusing that he was borrowing a tactic that Fudge had used so often. Several times over the years, the minister had justified unpopular decisions by claiming they would prevent the return of "You-Know-Who". Of course, for Fudge, it was just empty rhetoric. Harry was sure the spineless coward didn't actually think there was any possibility of Voldemort rising once more. If it did happen, Fudge would probably wet his pants and resign the next day.

But if people were willing to listen, Harry could tell them the truth of what had happened in his first and second years at Hogwarts. If enough people were willing to consider the possibility, he could even provide tangible proof in the form of the enchanted diary that had controlled Ginny. Sooner or later, people would accept that Harry was telling the truth, and they would realize that they needed to clean up the ministry before the next Blood War started.

And in the end, people like Fudge and Malfoy, and even Dumbledore would get what they so richly deserved.

* * *

A/N – Welcome to Book 3! Hard to believe we're already this far into the story.

As I'm sure many others have also noticed, Fudge goes through an interesting shift between books 3 and 4. In Prisoner of Azkaban, he appears willing to consider the possibility of Voldemort returning. In fact, during their conversation at the Three Broomsticks, when Madam Rosmerta asks if Sirius Black will try to rejoin You-Know-Who, Fudge responds, "I daresay that is his – er – eventual plan. But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing… but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he'll rise again…" Yet, 18 months later, he is incensed at the idea of Voldemort's return.

As I sort of explained above, I don't think that this is a plot hole, rather, it's that Fudge never really thought it could happen. He was using the threat of Voldemort's return to justify having the dementors around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, something that was certainly unpopular with the locals. By claiming that these unpleasant methods would prevent Voldemort from coming back, Fudge could silence their complaints. But when faced with the prospect of admitting that all his unpopular actions had failed and the greatest threat in their generation had returned on his watch, Fudge chose to bury his head in the sand.

Also, one thing to keep in mind going forward is that right now, Harry's public status is actually pretty good – at least as high as it was at any point in canon (before the triumphant victory at the end of book 7, that is). Just a few months earlier, he exposed Gilderoy Lockhart for the charlatan that he was. And while many people in Hogwarts suspected Harry of being involved in the attacks on the Slytherins (or the muggle-borns before that), outside of Hogwarts, all that most people saw was that he was one of the main ones behind the investigation which showed that the students who had been arrested were innocent. And since people haven't spent a year reading Rita Skeeter's lies about him, Harry's in a surprisingly good position to convince people that there is some truth to what he is saying. And, as we saw with Madam Rosmerta's question to Fudge, the idea that Voldemort might return was not considered as ludicrous among the general population as the ministry tries to make it seem in book 5.

And as you can tell from the opening excerpt, Tonks will be joining the team this year :)


	3. Chapter 2: Experts and Explanations

Chapter 2: Experts and Explanations

Sneaking into France was easier than Harry had thought it would be. Of course, since Peter was there, passport in hand, the guards at the ferry didn't have any reason to look closer, not that a closer look would have revealed anything, since Harry was totally covered by his invisibility cloak. Still, it was a little bit exciting. At least, on Harry's end.

"You know, I've broken more laws since I started working with you than I did in all the rest of my life," Peter remarked casually as they got out of the car at Isobel Caron's clinic just east of Lille, in Northern France.

"Aren't you just so glad that I came along to save you from a humdrum life of boredom and normality?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

"I suppose that's one way to put it," came the dry response as they walked in.

Harry was a little surprised at how… casual the clinic was, especially for an internationally acclaimed facility specializing in rare or unusual cases. There was no receptionist waiting, only about a dozen chairs along the walls of the room. A simple coffee table was positioned at the far side of the room, with several medical-looking books placed on top. He didn't have any opportunity to look closer, however, because an elderly woman suddenly appeared out of the back room.

"Come in, come in," Healer Caron said with a grandmotherly smile. "You would be Mister Wilson and my mysterious patient, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am, that is correct," Peter replied quickly. "Although I suppose there is no need for any further mystery regarding the identity of your patient. This is Harry Potter," he said, putting his hand on Harry's back. They had previously agreed it would be best for Peter to take the lead, a decision for which Harry was very grateful now, given that this was a new experience for him. His relatives had never been concerned for his welfare, which meant that this was the first trip to a doctor (or healer, as they called them in the magical world) that he could remember.

"And given the questions you asked when setting up this appointment, I assume that you are not actually Mister Potter's guardian. Did you bring a signed statement stating that you are authorized to engage my services on his guardian's behalf, and to make any necessary medical decisions today?"

"I did," Peter said as he opened his briefcase and removed the document in question. Thanks to the friend juice (Harry's name for the Unctuous Unction that he routinely fed his relatives) Aunt Petunia had been positively delighted at the idea of Harry seeing a Healer. Her watery eyes as she thought of the horrendous upbringing that he had endured thanks to her and her family had made Harry a little uncomfortable, but it was nice to feel loved, even if the emotion was manufactured by a potion.

Healer Caron studied the paper carefully, waving her wand over it once, then looked back up. "Everything seems to be in order. Thank you for that." Harry relaxed just a little bit. Technically, thanks to the apprenticeship that Dumbledore had illegally forced upon Harry, all such decisions should have gone through the headmaster, but Harry obviously didn't care about what the headmaster thought any more. As long as the healer didn't know about the apprenticeship, there was nothing to stand in their way.

"If you'll follow me into the back, we'll get started," the healer said as she turned and walked through a small archway with runes all around the edges. They entered a small room with a padded table in the center.

"Are your clothes magical?" the healer asked, turning around once more to look closely at Harry.

"No," he responded quickly.

"Are you carrying any magical objects?"

"No," the boy replied again.

"Then hop up on the table and lay back. I'll activate the privacy wards, and we'll get started," the old woman instructed.

Half an hour later, Harry was struggling to keep his eyes open. He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. The healer never said a word, she simply waved her wand in varying complex patterns over and over again. Each time, her frown seemed to deepen. Now, Harry realized that his earlier impression had been incorrect. Isobel Caron was not some kindly grandmother. No, she was a scientist, and she was studying him as closely as she would a specimen in a petri dish.

Finally, the silence was broken. "How much do you know about magical medicine, Mister Potter?" the healer asked, though she didn't actually make eye contact, instead continuing to focus on casting spells.

"Essentially nothing," he answered.

"Many people have a very incorrect idea of exactly how the spells healers use were developed. In particular, diagnostic spells are frequently misunderstood. Most people seem to think that some famous person like Merlin or Paracelsus invented these spells, and then gave us a big book explaining what each one does and what the different results mean." Now, she turned her attention to Harry, her expression stern. "Nothing could be further from the truth. All the spells used in healing boil down to nothing more than guesswork and assumptions."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, the woman continued. "Now, granted, those assumptions have been refined over centuries, or sometimes, millennia of use, but still, the basic principle remains unchanged."

Apparently, she could see that he was still a little unsure, for she explained a little further, halting her spell casting to focus on her patient. "Imagine that I create a new spell, and I cast it on my friend. When I cast the spell, my friend glows blue. I am excited to have this new spell, and so I tell people about it. And soon enough, they are casting this spell as well, happily causing everyone to glow blue for a short time. We think that we understand the spell, until, one day, I cast the spell on an elderly neighbor down the street, and, to my utter astonishment, she glows red." She looked contemplatively at Harry. "What are some possible reasons that she would glow red?"

Harry was a little startled by the question, and took a few moments to gather his thoughts. "Uhh, well, you said that she was elderly. It could have something to do with her age," he suggested.

"It certainly could. But with only one case, there are literally thousands of possible factors which could explain the unexpected result. So, we keep casting the spell, and one day, we find a young boy who also glows red. What does that tell you?"

"That it has nothing to do with age," he responded promptly. "Or gender," he added after a moment.

"Correct. We have thus eliminated a few obvious things, and closer study of the two individuals may allow us to find a number of commonalities that could explain the red glow. But, still, there are many possible reasons. And so, we must wait until we have more people who glow red and we keep careful records about these individuals in hopes of finding a pattern."

The healer gave a small sigh. "This is how modern diagnostic spells were developed. Numerous spells have been used all across the world, but they all boil down to the same basic principle. We cast these spells on as many people as possible until we understand what the normal results are. When a diagnostic spell gives us a result that we have not previously seen, or has been seen so rarely that no explanation for that result has been commonly accepted by healers, we refer to that as an anomalous result."

"And, is that common?" Harry asked.

"Much more common than most people think. Healers in different countries still share information, though, of course, exactly how cooperative they are varies from hospital to hospital and country to country. But there are at least 8,000 documented instances of diagnostic spells producing anomalous results, the vast majority of which are complete mysteries."

"And, as the only person to survive the killing curse, I'm going to guess that I'm one of those anomalies," Harry said, his voice dry.

"Oh, without a doubt. Though I'm not so sure that you're the only person to survive the killing curse. It's entirely possible that someone else survived it before you, but had the good sense not to spread that knowledge around. After all, surviving the killing curse means that somebody wants you dead, and in that case, it makes no sense to inform your would-be killer of which methods will or will not work on you," she responded, her tone matching his.

"So, I'm guessing that this topic of conversation is your way of saying that there isn't much you can do for him," Peter interjected.

The healer frowned. "Not entirely. My spells did reveal a few minor problems that can be easily corrected. Some residual issues from some periods of malnourishment as a child, and a few old injuries that weren't properly treated." She turned to Peter, her eyes piercing. "Such issues raise questions about the suitability of his guardians to care for a child."

"It has already been dealt with," Peter replied evenly.

The old woman's only reply was a thoughtful hum as she continued to observe the man closely.

"Very well. As I said, they can be easily corrected," she finally said, seeming a touch reluctant to move away from the topic. "I'll fix the injuries here today, and provide you with a potion regimen that will fix the lingering damage from malnourishment. It's a fairly simple potion, any apothecary should be able to brew it for a reasonable price."

"Will it require a prescription, or anything to that effect?" Peter asked.

"No reason why it should," the healer replied dismissively.

"And what about surviving the killing curse? Are there any health issues besides that?" Harry asked. "Besides the scar, I mean," he quickly clarified.

"I doubt the scar actually came from the killing curse," Healer Caron responded, "given that it typically leaves no mark. It is far more likely that it was a _sowilo_ rune used as part of a ritual. Whether that ritual was performed by your parents in the hope of protecting you, or by the dark one for some nefarious purpose is something that I could not say with any degree of accuracy. But, whatever the source of the scar, there is something concerning about it. Some form of lingering contamination. Unfortunately, as I previously said, this is something I've never even heard of before, let alone seen. As such, I have no idea what sort of long-term issues it might cause, or how one might go about treating it."

She turned away from Harry and walked over to a table along one wall. "I will give you the contact information of a specialist that I have worked with in the past, a man by the name of Brian Williams. He has a wide range of knowledge in many magical traditions besides the Roman and Druidic that make up the majority of our healing in Western Europe. Perhaps he can shed some more light on your little anomaly."

"Where is this expert located?" Peter asked.

"In America. Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to be precise," came the prompt reply.

Peter glanced over at Harry, who gave a small nod with his head. "That would be wonderful," the man said with a smile. "Is there anything in particular that I should tell him when I set up an appointment?"

"Tell him you've already been to see me," the healer said, then handed Peter a piece of paper. "And sign that form authorizing me to discuss the results of my spells with him. I'll tell him what little I've been able to determine thus far. Of course, knowing him, he'll probably want to start from the beginning anyway, just to make sure that I didn't miss something," she said, rolling her eyes a little bit.

* * *

While Peter stayed behind to finish the last few details, paperwork and payment and such things, Harry made his way out to the car, surprised at how disappointed he felt. He had known that it was a long shot, but he had still hoped for a solution. The way that she had explained it made sense, though. He was the only known survivor of the killing curse. Of course, nobody would really know what sort of impact that would have on him.

The fact that his scar had hurt when in the presence of Voldemort during first year was what made Harry so sure that there something wrong with his scar. The fact that Healer Caron's spells had identified some sort of corruption just strengthened this belief, and made him even more determined to find some way to fix whatever was wrong with him.

Peter came out of the clinic just a few minutes later, and they began the trip back to Britain.

* * *

To Harry's frustration, the appointment with the specialist healer was more than a month out. Still, there was enough going on that he was able to keep himself occupied. In some ways, it was funny to think that during summer, which most of his classmates probably considered to be a vacation, he was working just as hard, if not harder than he did while he was at Hogwarts. But, of course, that was understandable. After all, exposing decades worth of crime and corruption that had infected every level of the government was no small task.

Fortunately, he had people helping him, which made things much easier. And, if the interviews that day went well, he would have even more people on his side.

"So, how did you find these people?" Harry asked as he waited with Peter in the small conference room they had rented for the day. Harry, of course, was under disguising potions. The potential team members wouldn't be told the full truth until Harry had decided whether or not to hire them.

"Most muggle-borns keep in touch after Hogwarts. We generally drift back to the muggle world since we're more familiar with it, but that can be difficult with that gap in our educational records. So, we kind of help each other out. I put out the word that I was looking at hiring an accountant with knowledge of the magical world, and someone with some experience in warding."

"Is that going to get back to the ministry?" Harry asked, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended.

"No," Peter replied flatly. "Most of these people don't have fond memories of the magical world. And there's nothing incriminating about asking for people with those skills. At least, not for the accountant."

Harry turned to look at him, surprised. "But the warder, that could be a problem?"

Peter grinned. "Warding is heavily restricted by the ministry, which makes sense, given that it would be a major violation of the Statute of Secrecy if things went wrong. As such, under Wizengamot law, no magical person or beast is allowed to establish wards without proper certification. The punishment for violations is quite severe. And if you want to put up anything more than the basic wards like Mac put up around the cabin, you need to get certified by a warding company or guild with the appropriate accreditation, which are all under the control of the very people we're trying to avoid."

Harry frowned. "That seems like it would be a bad thing. But you're smiling. Why?"

"Because the warder that we are going to meet today found a rather obvious, but, still, shocking loophole in that law," Peter replied, still grinning.

"And are you going to tell me what that loophole is?" Harry asked.

"Nope. Let's see if you can figure it out on your own," came the snarky reply.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So, who are we meeting first?"

"The accountant, Malcolm Prewett," Peter answered. They both turned as the door opened and Chad led a large man with bright red hair into the room. "Mister Prewett, I presume," Peter said with a smile.

"That would be me," the man replied with a broad smile. "Mister Wilson?"

"Yes, and this is Harry Smith," Peter said, pointing to Harry, who currently looked to be in his mid-twenties.

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry said as he held out a hand, which the large man shook firmly.

"Before we get started, I just have to ask about your name. Any relation to the heroes from the Blood War, Gideon and Fabian Prewett?" Peter asked after they had sat down.

"Second cousins," the man replied.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry said.

Malcolm shrugged. "Truth be told, I don't really see my family that much. When we realized I was a squib, my parents and I decided it would be best for me to make the transition to the muggle world. It's tough keeping a foot in both camps, as it were. So, outside of the occasional family gathering, I didn't really see them much."

"Well, still, losing family is never easy. You have our condolences," Peter said sincerely.

The other man simply nodded.

"Now, can you tell us a little bit about your background? What made you decide to focus on accounting, and what sort of experience do you have?"

* * *

The interview lasted a little over half an hour, but Harry felt it was time well spent. After Malcolm had left, Harry, Chad and Peter gathered around the table to discuss their thoughts.

"I think he'll do well," Chad said quickly.

"I agree. Seems like an intelligent fellow, good with numbers. And I don't have any concerns about him exposing us to the ministry, be it deliberately or accidentally," Peter replied.

"I just can't believe that he's related to Ron Weasley," Harry said. Seeing the questioning looks he was getting from the others, he explained. "Let's just say that, except for the red hair, those two are completely different."

"I realize that the 'no-real-magic' thing might be difficult to work around, but he did grow up in pureblood society, right? He could be a candidate for our 'Faceman' for Harry's little scheme," Chad suggested.

"Faceman?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Faceman," Chad replied. "Y'know, Templeton Peck from A-Team?" Seeing the confused look from the others in the room, he sighed. "Face was good with talking to people, getting them to trust him, things like that. He was the 'face' of the team, ran all their scams and stuff."

Harry was a little doubtful, both about the comparison, and about Malcolm's ability to fill said role. "I don't know. He seemed a bit too… honest to me. If we're going to scamming a bunch of Slytherins, we'll need someone with a more devious mindset."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Hopefully, the more direct attacks that Harry's making in the Quibbler will keep their attention focused on him, making it easier for us to pull the wool over their eyes, but we still need someone convincing."

"Fortunately, we have time," Harry said. "Months, at least, before it should be an issue. We'll find someone, or one of us can do it."

Both Peter and Chad looked a little dubious at Harry's ending comment, but neither said anything.

"So, who are we meeting next?" Harry asked.

"Connor and Michelle Fairbanks," Peter answered. "Husband and wife. Michelle is muggle-born, graduated from Hogwarts in 1964."

"What about Connor?" Chad inquired.

"He's a muggle. An electrical engineer by trade," Peter replied, the small smile once more evident.

Harry studied the man carefully, a suspicion beginning to form in his mind. "That's the loophole, isn't it? The ministry banned magical people from establishing wards without the appropriate certifications, but that doesn't say anything about non-magicals."

"Yes, indeed," Peter grinned.

"Our warding expert is a no-maj?" The confusion and astonishment in Chad's voice was clear. "How does that work?"

"I think I'll let them explain it," Peter said as he stood and walked over to the door. "I think I heard someone coming down the stairs, probably our new guests."

Sure enough, he returned just a short while later with two people. The man was about average height, with curly brown hair, though it was thinning considerably at the top, while his wife was several inches shorter and had blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

"Connor, Michelle, allow me to introduce you to Harry Smith and Chad," Peter said, pointing to each in turn. "Don't worry about Chad's last name, you wouldn't be able to pronounce it anyways. And this is Connor and Michelle Fairbanks," he finished.

Greetings and handshakes were exchanged all around.

"So, I apologize if this is kind of rude, but I'm an American, so I can get away with stuff like this," Chad began, even before they had sat at the table. "How on earth did a _non-magical_ person become an expert in a field of _magical_ study?"

Connor laughed. "Aye, it's surprising, isn't it?" His Scottish brogue was thick, but not so much that it made him difficult to understand. "After I learned about your world from Michelle, I found it fascinating. I just had to learn more. So I read everything I could, and was particularly interested in runes and warding. I was disappointed at how little information there was available to the general public, so I started playing around on my own. Realized after a while that, since the Ministry's laws don't really apply to me, I was in a unique position to some of our friends out with security. One thing led to another, and now here we are."

"Even if you're not technically violating the ministry's laws, I'm not sure how much I'd trust them to respect that argument," Harry cautioned.

Michelle nodded somberly. "We realize that now, but it's a little late at this point. If the ministry found out about Connor's projects in the past, they'd come after us either way. We keep our heads down, but…" her voice trailed off as she shrugged helplessly.

An awkward silence stretched for a few moments. "What about you, Michelle? If Connor's into warding, what are you into?"

"Mostly history and education," she responded. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why Peter asked me to come here today. A warder is easy to understand, but I can't see the use for a historian, even though I'm not exactly sure what your goals are."

"You know, actually, I can think of some very valuable assistance that a historian could offer us," Harry said, his voice contemplative. "To put it simply, our goal is to expose corruption in the ministry, and being able to provide historical comparisons to our current situation would add some weight to our arguments."

"Not to mention that there are two prominent individuals that we would like more information on. Given how much mystery and sensationalism there is surrounding both of these people, it will likely take a fair amount of work to find the truth," Peter added.

It was clear that both of the Fairbanks were intrigued by these comments. Harry smiled. The plan was starting to come together.


	4. Chapter 3: Going Public

Chapter 3: Going Public

Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. This wasn't an unusual thing when one disembarked from the Knight Bus, but this time, his anxiety wasn't from the rather terrifying mode of transportation he had just used. No, the real challenge was what lay ahead.

And to think, it had all started with a seemingly innocuous statement.

* * *

_Four days earlier_

"There's a few other people I would like to consider approaching," Peter said as he finished his report at the weekly meeting. "One that I really have my eye on is Sirius Black's cousin's daughter, an Auror Trainee named Nymphadora Tonks. If she were willing to join us, her connections in the ministry could be useful, and she has a rare magical shapeshifting ability that, if properly utilized, could be incredibly valuable."

Around the table, the other members of their conspiracy nodded in understanding. "So, if anybody has any ideas of other people who might have skills that could be helpful, let me know, and we can see about approaching them," the man finished.

"I might have one," Malcom Prewett offered. "But it's complicated. I'll talk with you after the meeting."

Peter nodded and jotted a note down in his ledger. "And I just have one other thing," he continued. "Harry, have you made a decision regarding Remus Lupin?"

"Yes," Harry replied firmly. "We're not going to reach out to him, either to join us, or for tutoring. He hasn't contacted me, and my parents thought he would choose Dumbledore over them. I see no reason to assume differently." In truth, he was a little bit torn. It would be so nice to have a real connection with one of his parents' friends, but it seemed it simply wasn't to be. From what he could tell from their conversation at the end of the school year, Lupin was still convinced of Black's guilt, and refused to consider that Dumbledore had played a significant role in his former friend's death. And though Lupin had been a fantastic teacher, with a real gift for explaining concepts clearly, it just wasn't worth the risk. Harry was certain that he would have done an excellent job as a tutor, but the goal was to keep it a secret from Dumbledore for as long as possible.

"Alright. In that case, if you still want to get some tutoring in, I'd recommend we go with the Durmstrang professor I told you about."

"When could he start? And what was his name again?" the boy asked.

"Anatoli Ivankov, and it sounded like he could start at any time. He just retired, and was looking to do some traveling. Based on my communication with him, it sounds like it would be very easy to arrange for him to come for a few weeks, like we discussed."

"Do it. I'd like to start as soon as we can," Harry instructed.

Peter nodded, making another note. "And that's it for me," he announced as he looked up again.

"Thank you, Peter," Harry said as he glanced down at the agenda for the meeting. "That's everything we had planned to discuss. Does anyone have anything they'd like to bring up before we leave?"

"I have something," Michelle said. "I'm not sure if you were all aware, but the Quibbler just came out earlier this week. This edition is the one with Harry's interview." She paused for a moment, frowning as she gathered her thoughts. "Now, I know that the original goal there was as a sort of diversion to distract them away from the real plan, but I think that you've underestimated how much support you're getting."

"Really?" Harry asked, astonished. "I mean, the articles tell what happened, but I didn't really have any proof or anything."

"Well, for a lot of people, that's enough," Michelle replied. "You've done a lot lately, exposing Lockhart, not to mention being one of the ones spearheading the Hogwarts Report. Many people are willing to listen. Not everyone, of course. I'm not even sure if _most_ people are willing to listen. But there are certainly some. I think you should capitalize on that opportunity."

"How?" Harry inquired.

"Spend some time out and about," she responded promptly. "Go to Diagon Alley, and maybe Hogsmeade as well. The ministry has already begun to fight back. Fudge is trying to portray you as an attention-seeking brat that's just telling tall tales to increase your fame and popularity. The longer you go without responding, the weaker your position will be. But if you spend some time with people, let them get to know you, see that you're not the type of glory hound that the ministry says you are…" She shrugged. "I can't guarantee anything, but I expect that a lot more people will be willing to listen. If nothing else, it will make the distraction that much more effective."

Harry frowned as he thought. It was a good idea, but it would force him well outside of his comfort zone. "I can see what you're saying," he began. "I'm a little bit worried that I wouldn't do well. Getting lots of attention in public isn't really something that I'm used to."

"We can prepare some talking points for you," Peter assured the boy. "And do some roleplaying, pretend to be regular members of the public so you get some practice answering questions. And if you do struggle a little, that's fine. People will remember that you're just a teenager. You're not expected to know everything, or to have perfectly polished responses to all their questions. That might even do more to convince them that Fudge is wrong about you."

Looking around, Harry could see that the others at the table thought it was a good idea. And though he was still a little uncomfortable with it, he had to admit that Michelle's suggestion had a lot of merit. It was only fair, he supposed, that he go above and beyond what he was comfortable with, just as all of the others were doing at times.

"Alright, I'll do it. But, like you said, I will want some talking points and we'll need to practice to ensure I can present the image we're going for," he reluctantly agreed.

"I've got plenty of examples of corruption and injustice in the ministry," Peter promised. "I'll get a list of some of the best ones that you can point out, then we'll come up with some questions you'll likely be asked and some of the accusations that people might make against you, and we'll come up with some good responses."

"Okay," the boy replied, still feeling a bit unsettled.

* * *

The Knight Bus had dropped him off just outside of the small village of Hogsmeade. Glancing around, Harry was glad to see that, at least for the moment, he was alone. He pulled his emergency kit out of his pocket, and opened to the potions. Selecting one of the robin egg blue calming draughts, he quickly uncapped the vial and downed the potion in one gulp.

A feeling of bliss settled over the boy as all of his earlier concerns and doubts melted away like snow in the afternoon sun. He took a deep breath, amazed at how clear and inviting the air smelled. A small grin spread over his face as he strolled into the village, taking the time to enjoy the charming ambiance the small settlement had to offer.

He poked his head into a few of the shops but didn't buy anything. Not yet. The goal here was to let people see that Harry Potter was in the area. And it was working. Though he tried his best to ignore it, a small crowd had gathered, with many people glancing over at him frequently, though none approached him. After about half an hour, he made his way over to the Three Broomsticks, timing things so that he hopefully arrived just before the lunch crowd. Still, there were a decent number of patrons present.

The small tavern fell silent as he entered, with more and more people noticing him. Still pretending to be oblivious, Harry approached the bar where a woman was working on something with her back to him. "Excuse me," he called. "Are you Madam Rosmerta?"

The woman turned around, revealing an attractive face on top of a rather impressive body. "Yes, I" she began, then her eyes widened as she realized who she was talking to. "Why, Harry Potter! Bless my soul, what a surprise."

"Since I'm old enough for the Hogsmeade visits this year, I wanted to see the village a little bit, and my friend Neville mentioned that if I wanted somewhere to eat, your pub had the best food," he explained with a smile. "Thought I'd come check it out."

"Well, I don't know about the best food," Madam Rosmerta demurred, "but I do my best. What can I get for you?"

"Just, uh, just give me whatever you think is best," Harry responded. "I'm sure it'll all be great."

"How does garlic chicken and potatoes sound?" the curvy bartender suggested.

"Sounds brilliant," the boy replied sincerely.

"Well, give me just a few minutes. In the meantime, here's a butterbeer for you," she said, sliding a foaming tankard of bubbling tan liquid in front of Harry.

"This is delicious," he exclaimed after taking a small sip.

"Secret recipe," Rosmerta confessed as she disappeared into the back.

Harry took another drink, then turned around on the stool. He was unsurprised to see the other patrons in the pub shooting him not-at-all-subtle glances. "Hi, everybody," he said with a wave and a smile. "I'm Harry."

Chuckles filled the room, and a few brave people walked up to him.

"Such an honor," an old lady in a traditional, dark blue robe said, holding out her hand. "I'm not sure if you remember me. My name is Doris Crockford, we met at the Leaky Cauldron."

His preparation for today had included lessons in proper etiquette in the wizarding world, and Harry was determined to make a good impression. He took Doris' hand, bringing it up to his lips, and gently pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "The honor is mine, Madam Crockford. If I remember correctly, that was when I came with Mister Hagrid during the summer of '91. Is that right?" Of course, Harry didn't really remember the woman, but given that his visits to the magical world had been few and far between, that was a pretty good guess.

"Yes, exactly," the woman beamed, delighted at having been remembered.

"Tom Alderton," a man wearing a muggle business suit said, holding out his hand, which Harry shook firmly. "I don't normally read the Quibbler, but a friend told me about your interview, and I just had to read it for myself. Is it really true what you said?"

"I read the article before it was published, and afterward just to make sure that there weren't any mistakes. And I can tell you that it is all true," Harry responded, making sure that his voice left no room for doubt.

"You really think that You-Know-Who is trying to regain a body?" the man asked, his voice little more than a horrified whisper.

"I obviously don't know exactly what he's up to right now, but I can say that he possessed Quirinus Quirrel, my Defense professor during my first year, to try to steal an artifact that would allow him to take a physical form once more. I was badly injured stopping him. Fortunately, he was still very weak, otherwise I certainly would have been killed," Harry answered, making no effort to keep his voice down. He wasn't shouting, of course, but it wouldn't be difficult for any of the other visitors in the pub to hear what he was saying if they wanted to.

"And what about that bit about Sirius Black?" someone asked. Harry turned to see a stern-faced, dark-haired woman that made him think of a librarian, though her very casual set of clothing (a Weird Sisters t-shirt and jeans) didn't quite match. "Do you really think he was innocent?"

"All the evidence I've seen says that he was. After all, Peter Pettigrew was caught and confessed to the crimes that Sirius Black had been accused of."

Madam Rosmerta chose that moment to reappear, placing a plate of delicious-smelling food in front of Harry, and added her opinion. "I knew those boys very well. James Potter and Sirius Black were in here all the time. Always made me laugh," she said with a smile of fond remembrance. "Quite the double act they were. I had a hard time believing Black was guilty when I heard it, and now I'm convinced that Harry here is right. I can't imagine Black doing the things he was accused of, but, unfortunately, I can believe it of Pettigrew."

"And let's not forget that Sirius Black wasn't the only innocent person who was thrown in Azkaban," Harry pointed out. "I mean, we've all heard stories about people defending themselves from Death Eater attacks, only to be arrested by the Aurors."

"And that's all they are. Stories," a scowling man in navy blue robes called out, his voice brooking no argument.

Harry took a moment to study his first challenger. "Gordon Belknap would disagree," he replied evenly.

"Gordon who?" Tom Alderton asked.

"Gordon Belknap. In June of 1974, he was arrested for severely injuring three wizards. He tried to argue that they had tried to curse him first and he simply defended himself, but since all three of his accusers agreed that he had attacked them without provocation, the Wizengamot elders who were presiding at the trial decided that there was sufficient evidence of his guilt. Belknap demanded veritaserum, but the elders refused, claiming that resources were in short supply due to the war, and thus, it wasn't necessary for such a clear case." Harry turned his attention back to the older man who had disagreed with him. "And his attackers? Two of them were later found to be Death Eaters and arrested. The third was found dead after a raid, still dressed in full Death Eater regalia. I assure you, it's not just stories."

The man flushed angrily. "Even if that is true, which we only have your word, that's just one case."

"If you don't believe me, you're welcome to look it up yourself. All the information can be found in the public section of the Department of Records, though you might have to put the pieces together from several different files," Harry responded, grateful that the calming draught he had taken earlier was preventing him from losing his temper. _Or, if you don't want to do it yourself, you can hire a Ravenclaw to put the pieces together for you like I did_, he thought.

"And it's not just one case," he continued. "Mitchell Hopkins was arrested for violating the Statute of Secrecy. The Aurors that responded claimed that due to extreme paranoia, he lost his mind and began casting spells at shadows in his yard. However, the photographs taken at the scene actually show several places where spells hit his house. A few of those damaged areas were in locations where Hopkins could not possibly have hit from the window he was casting from. The Aurors' own evidence shows that he had been attacked, but the tribunal refused to believe him."

Harry took a drink of butterbeer before continuing. "There are at least two other cases as well that are highly suspicious, though I will admit that the evidence on their behalf isn't quite as cut and dry. Their names were Gloria Meadows and Simon Reid. But in both cases, they requested to be interrogated under veritaserum, as was their right, and the elders refused."

"That's horrible," Doris Crockford exclaimed, and it appeared that many people agreed with that sentiment, though not everyone, of course.

"You really think we're going to believe your lies?" another man demanded. "The Prophet is right. You're just a brat who wants more fame."

"You know, it amazes me that people can really think that. I'm famous because my parents died to protect me," Harry countered, still keeping his voice calm. "I would gladly trade every bit of fame and notoriety that I have for the chance to get to know them. Even just for a single day." He glared at the man. "But I can't. They're dead. And not just my parents. So many other people lost loved ones. Parents, siblings, children… They're dead because the ministry failed in its duty to protect the citizens of magical Britain from threats like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. So now, I'm going to use all of that fame to help people realize that the ministry needs to change. We can't be content to just ignore the corruption that festers in the government that is supposed to be protecting us."

A few people still seemed a little unconvinced, so Harry pressed the issue even further. "Can any one here honestly say that they want to live in a society where the government can throw people in prison for defending themselves?" He looked directly at the man who had echoed the Prophet's accusations. "Can you?"

"It would never happen," the man replied angrily.

"It did happen! And it almost happened with those students that were arrested a few months ago. We all saw that memo that was leaked by some brave person in the ministry. The Minister's Undersecretary was fixing things to ensure that they were convicted, regardless of their innocence, and planned to have them thrown in Azkaban right afterword. That's the kind of government that you're protecting," he finished, jabbing a finger toward the man for emphasis.

"This is all a very interesting discussion, and it's an important one, too, but for now, I think it's time that we let Mister Potter eat in peace," Madam Rosmerta announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. There were a few mutters, but everyone obeyed, however reluctantly.

"Thank you," Harry said with a grateful smile. "I'm sorry if things got out of hand. I didn't mean to turn your pub into a debate hall."

"Not a problem, Mister Potter," the woman replied.

"Please, just call me Harry," the boy interjected.

"Well, then, not a problem, Harry. I have to say, I agree with you. There's some things with the ministry that just aren't right, and if you can convince people to stand up and fix it, then more power to you."

"I'll do my best," Harry assured her. "And may I just say, this food is absolutely marvelous," he added as he took another large bite.

Madam Rosmerta preened a little under the praise.

* * *

After finishing lunch, Harry did a little shopping, picking up a few supplies that he knew he would need the coming year. Several more people came up to him, but, fortunately, there were no more angry confrontations. While a few were still undecided, most of those who did approach him were firmly in his camp.

Before too long, Harry had finished with everything he needed to do at Hogsmeade.

After another harrowing ride on the Knight Bus, he took the opportunity to down another calming draught, then entered Diagon Alley. This time, there was no delay. Whether it was because of the debate in the Three Broomsticks, or the people here were just a little more pushy, there was no shortage of people who approached Harry, asking questions about the Quibbler article and the accusations he had made.

Here, the group seemed a little more hostile at times, though thankfully the situation never got out of hand. Still, Harry had enough facts to back up his claims, and his assurance that people could investigate for themselves to see if he was telling the truth was enough to sway over a number of skeptics.

"Minister Fudge says that I'm lying. He says that there is no way that You-Know-Who could come to power once more," Harry said to a small crowd gathered outside of Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop, where Harry had decided to grab a quick treat after more than an hour of talking with people. "But three years ago, when asked if he supported a proposal in the Wizengamot to lower the property tax rate to the level that it was at before the Blood War, he responded that the higher taxes were necessary in order to prevent the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was in the Daily Prophet in April of 1990," he emphasized. "Anyone who isn't sure if they should believe me or not, feel free to go check their archives – it's just down the street," he added, pointing.

Rather than staying in one place, Harry kept moving when feasible, visiting different shops all up and down the alley. Though the supply lists for Hogwarts hadn't been sent out yet, he had a pretty good idea of what most of the classes would require. Defense Against the Dark Arts was really the only holdout, since having a new professor every year meant that there hadn't been an established curriculum for decades now. The crowd tended to follow him as he walked, with some people even going so far as to trail after him into the stores.

"To be honest, I really don't know much about Bartemius Crouch," he admitted to a large, dark-haired man with a goatee. "So I can't say whether or not I would support him for Minister. I would definitely have some questions for him about what role he played in my godfather being thrown in Azkaban without a trial, but it's possible that he was unaware of that miscarriage of justice. With so many of the records sealed, I haven't been able to find out exactly who was to blame all those years ago."

Fortunately, the man was prevented from pressing the issue further when Harry finally found the book he had been looking for. "_Magic All Around Us,_ by Pyrenius Pickerdoodle, check" he said to himself as he crossed the arithmancy text off his list, then began to look for _Systems of Symbology: An Introduction to Runes_.

"The thing that many people are forgetting is that my godfather, Sirius Black, was never convicted of being a Death Eater," he said in response to a question from a large, red-headed witch in a tight Weird Sisters t-shirt. "He was accused more than a decade ago, but didn't have a trial until recently, when the real culprit was taken into custody and Sirius Black was found innocent. He was being held _illegally_ at Azkaban pending further investigation when he died. They claim that he was trying to escape, but there's no real proof of that. And even if he was, it doesn't mean that he was a Death Eater." Harry scoffed. "If I was being illegally held in a nightmare of a prison filled with soul-sucking monsters, I'd try to escape, too. But, of course, the ministry doesn't want people to think about that."

Harry noticed a few people in red Auror robes glaring at him, but paid them no mind as he continued on his way, still answering questions and responding to objections.

Several times Harry was forced to admit ignorance on a particular subject. And while some people tried to use this as proof that he didn't know what he was talking about, many others seemed to accept that it was unreasonable to expect anyone to have a complete knowledge of recent history, especially a teenager who had only known about the Wizarding World for two years.

"After You-Know-Who vanished, people just wanted the war to be over," Harry explained to a group outside of the apothecary where he had taken the opportunity to refill his potions kit (as well as purchasing some extra ingredients for a few potions that wouldn't raise any eyebrows, such as more calming draughts). "That's understandable, but it had the unfortunate side effect of making people less diligent about seeing that justice was done. I think an excellent example is many of the 'prominent citizens' like Lucius Malfoy."

Someone began to object, but Harry raised his hand to stop the man and continued without pause. "Now, it's true that most of these people testified under veritaserum that they had been placed under the imperius curse, and that they had been ordered to attack innocent citizens. I'm not debating that. But what people overlooked then, and are still overlooking now, is that those statements do not necessarily exonerate people like Malfoy."

There was a general murmur of confusion from the group, but nobody interrupted Harry. "The Death Eaters used the imperius to force innocent people to commit horrible crimes, I know. And the blame rests solely on the heads of the Death Eaters, not those who were forced to do their bidding. But, as we all know, it takes time and practice to get good at casting spells."

Harry looked over the crowd, raising his arms dramatically. "Now, I've never cast the imperius curse, but I bet it's a pretty tricky spell to get right. So how did the Death Eaters practice it? Well, the answer is obvious. They practiced on _each other_. So, yes, I believe that Lucius Malfoy was placed under the imperius curse by a large number of Death Eaters. He probably also took turns casting it on other Death Eaters as well. But nobody ever asked if he was actually under the imperius curse when he obeyed the orders You-Know-Who gave him. And now, that man is one of the minister's top advisers!"

Harry suppressed a smile at the whispers of shock this theory inspired. He was the first to arrive at this conclusion, but now that he had shared it, many people were quick to agree. In truth, Harry was just guessing about the exact questions that had been asked of Malfoy and his ilk during their veritaserum interrogations, but it was a good enough explanation that it would certainly cast some doubt on Malfoy's innocence.

* * *

Harry sat down at a corner booth in the Leaky Cauldron with a sigh, grateful to be off his feet. It had been a long day, but he was glad that Michelle had suggested this little excursion. It had certainly worked. Harry smiled as he thought back, remembering the look on people's faces as they slowly came around to his way of thinking. Peter's research had been impeccable, and though there had been a few times that he had been caught off guard by a question or accusation they hadn't anticipated, Harry still felt that he had acquitted himself quite well. Now, he was enjoying some delicious fish and chips before he went back to the Dursleys.

"Excuse me, you mind if I sit with you?" A pleasant-sounding voice broke through his reverie.

Harry looked up to a see a blonde girl about his age with a slightly wide, but still very attractive face looking at him with a small smile. She held a tray with a burger and fries. "Sure, go ahead," he said, still a little surprised. He wasn't exactly trying to stay away from people, but he hadn't expected anybody to notice him tucked away off to the side like this.

"Thanks," the girl said as she sat down. "I'm Stephanie. Stephanie Lawson," she said, holding her hand out.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Lawson," Harry said as he took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles in the very formal and archaic way that Michelle and Malcolm had drilled into his head. "I'm Harry Potter," he said with a smile

The girl giggled slightly. "I did know that," she admitted. "You are just a little famous, after all."

A week ago, the reminder would have made Harry uncomfortable. But now, he didn't pay it any mind. "So, Stephanie, I'm not sure that I've ever seen you around before. Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Nope, not that lucky," she replied with a sigh and a frown. "I'm at Lonscaster."

"I have to admit, I've never even heard of Lonscaster," Harry responded. "What's it like?"

His new companion shrugged. "It's… school. I don't know. I'm sure it's not as good as Hogwarts."

"Well, truth be told, I'm not sure that Hogwarts is quite as good as its reputation suggests," Harry said, rolling his eyes slightly. "A few of the professors there…" he shuddered theatrically.

The girl laughed a little. "Yeah, my friend's oldest brother went to Hogwarts. He mentioned the potions professor, Snip, or something like that… said it was horrible. All the guy would do is insult the students. According to Rob, he never actually taught them anything."

"Oh, it's true," Harry assured the girl. "His name's Snape. He hated my dad, and now he's transferred that hate on to me. Why he's still allowed to teach, I have absolutely no idea."

"I guess that makes boring old Madam Thurwell seem a bit better by comparison," Stephanie joked.

"So, what are you up to tonight? You don't seem like one of the regulars who stopped by for a pint after work" Harry asked, gesturing around to the area near the bar where a group of middle-aged men were laughing about something.

"Well, my mum sometimes has to work late, and my dad's out of town on a business trip, so the food here's better than making something for myself at home. My friends and I were here this afternoon doing some shopping, and I decided to stay for dinner."

"The food certainly is tasty," Harry agreed. "Tom does good work."

"That he does," the girl agreed fervently as she took a big bite of her burger.

She chewed quickly, then swallowed. "So, I have to ask. One of my friends reads the Quibbler, and she showed me the interview you gave with them. Is that all real?"

"One hundred percent," Harry responded firmly. "I know it might be tough to believe, but You-Know-Who is trying to find a way to regain a body, and the fact is, the ministry is not prepared to fight him."

"I can believe the bit about the ministry, certainly," Stephanie said emphatically. She glanced around furtively, then leaned forward, a mischievous grin on her face. Though he tried to keep his eyes on her face, Harry couldn't help but notice the way that her shirt, a Weird Sisters tee with a ripped top that seemed just a little too big for her frame, fell forward, giving him a truly magnificent view of her chest. Still, he forced himself to pay attention to her words, hoping that she wouldn't notice his momentary distraction. "My uncle works in the Department of Records. When I asked him about it, he looked into a few things, and said that you were right about Sirius Black not getting a trial, and that they were only holding him pending an investigation." She sat back in her chair, a look of satisfaction on her face.

"I know, it's shocking, but that's the kind of ministry that we have right now," Harry said. "They're willing to break the law any time it suits them. I'm just surprised that more people aren't calling for Fudge's dismissal."

"How did you even find out about it?" Stephanie asked, her expression now a mixture of awe and respect. "I mean, my uncle said the transcript was sealed."

Fortunately, this was a story that Harry had practiced multiple times, expanding the simple lie he had told Amelia Bones when he and Peter had been trying to expose Pettigrew's crimes. "A few days before Peter Pettigrew was captured, a group notified me that he was the one who was really responsible for my parents being killed, and that they would be revealing the truth. I don't know how they got the message to me, but I found a letter on my pillow in my dorm at school. I guess one of the members has a younger sibling or maybe a kid in Gryffindor," he suggested with a shrug.

"And that same group managed to get you a copy of a sealed trial transcript? That's really lucky."

"Yeah," Harry said with a small laugh. "I don't know exactly who they are, but they're sure helping me out. And everything they've given me so far has been accurate."

"Well, I'm glad that you're brave enough to tell everyone about the ministry's crimes. It's horrible what they did to those kids, arresting them without any evidence at all. Makes you wonder what they had planned," Stephanie said, shuddering slightly. "I mean, would they really just throw innocent kids into Azkaban?"

"I don't know if you remember, but there was a memo from the Undersecretary that was leaked, saying that the students were to be sent to Azkaban. It even implied that she intended to arrange the trial so that they would be found guilty, regardless of any evidence on their behalf," Harry pointed out.

"That's terrible. It's a good thing that they were able to prove they were innocent. Do you think that group that's helping you was responsible for leaking that memo?"

Harry shook his head. "I think it must have been someone else. The group usually contacts me directly, leaving messages on my bed. Or, at least, they did while I was in school. I haven't had any communication from them in months," he added.

"Well, it's cool to think that there are people like that out there," Stephanie said, leaning forward conspiratorially once more. Again, Harry fixed a hopefully normal-looking smile on his face and forced himself to make eye contact despite the distracting view. "It's like a secret organization, like the Death Eaters, only for the good guys. Instead of attacking innocent people, they're trying to expose the ministry's crimes and protect people."

"I'm sure the ministry wouldn't approve," Harry replied derisively.

"Yeah, well, who cares about the ministry?" the girl replied with a dismissive snort. "If they're willing to imprison innocent people, then it's not like we should care what they think at all."

"No kidding," Harry agreed.

Silence filled the air as Stephanie finished eating her burger. "Well, it was lots of fun meeting you, Harry. I'm sure I'll see you around sometime," she said with a secretive smile.

"It was great meeting you as well," Harry replied.

"I need to get home now. Have a good evening."

"A good evening to you as well." Harry took her hand, once more pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "And thank you for the truly magnificent conversation," he replied elegantly.

Stephanie blushed a little, letting out a soft giggle. "Flirt," she scolded, though the wink she added as she left made it clear she was joking.

Harry couldn't help the broad smile that stole over his face as he watched his new friend walk out of the Cauldron and into muggle London. _Yes, Michelle was certainly on to something with this whole 'meet the public' thing, _he thought.

* * *

'Stephanie Lawson' strolled down the street, glancing around nonchalantly to ensure that she wasn't being followed, then casually turned down a deserted alley way. Once more checking that she wasn't being observed, she stretched her neck as her face narrowed slightly, and seemed to age by several years. Her blonde hair shifted to her preferred shade of pink, and she grew a few inches.

_Not as much progress as I would have liked, but still, not a bad start. And one thing's for certain, Potter knows more than he's saying_, Tonks thought grimly as she disapparated away.


	5. Chapter 4: An Unsual Tutor

Chapter 4: An Unusual Tutor

"Hey Harry, can we talk?"

Harry turned to see his cousin Dudley walking toward him, an awkward smile on his face.

"Sure, Dudley, what's up?" the young wizard replied.

"Do you still… you know… do your… exercise things?" Dudley was looking anywhere but at Harry, his face a brilliant scarlet.

"Not every day, because I've been busy, but a few times a week, yeah," Harry replied with a nod.

"Could I, um, join you?" Dudley asked quietly.

Though he had suspected where Dudley was going with this line of questioning, Harry was still a bit surprised by his cousin's request. "Yeah, you can come along any time that you want," Harry said, hiding any sight of the slight irritation he felt at the idea. Harry's 'exercise time' was often cover for trips up to the cabin for training with Mac and the others. But Harry was trying to develop a better relationship with his relatives, one not entirely dependent on Unctuous Unction, so this would be a good step. Still, it did raise some interesting questions. "Why do you want to join me?" The boy asked. "You've never been that interested in exercise before."

Now, Dudley was really trying to avoid Harry's gaze. "Well, everyone says that I should get in better shape, and I was thinking that maybe I want to do boxing, and I would need to exercise for that, and I thought maybe if I'm not so fat maybe…" his voice trailed off as he blushed brightly.

"Maybe what?" Harry pressed. "I'm not going to laugh or judge you Dudley," he assured the other boy, trying to keep his voice friendly.

"There's a… cute girl… and I thought… maybe…" Dudley didn't finish the thought, but Harry didn't need him to in order to understand.

"Well, it certainly can't hurt," Harry advised. "Let's do some exercising and see how it works. But I will warn you, it's not going to be easy. The first few weeks you'll be really sore, and will struggle with most of your exercises," the boy cautioned. "But, if you stick with it, you'll see a big difference." He made no promises about the girl his cousin was sweet on. Personally, Harry suspected that it would require far more than just an exercise regime for a girl to consider being in any sort of relationship with Dudley. A personality transplant would probably be needed, he thought with a smirk, then quickly banished that rather unkind idea.

The truth was, under the influence of the unction, Dudley (and the rest of the Dursleys as well) had been getting much more pleasant, and not just to Harry. While Harry wasn't spending nearly as much time in the house these days, he was around enough to see how his aunt and cousin interacted with the other people in the neighborhood. Dudley was no longer such a thug. He didn't beat up the neighborhood kids any more, and gone were the days where he entertained himself with minor acts of vandalism, such as throwing rocks at cars. Aunt Petunia, meanwhile, had lost the hunger for gossip she once had. In fact, when she had learned that a couple down the street had been having some marital problems, rather than spreading the unpleasant news far and wide, she had genuinely wondered aloud if there was something that she should do to help them. To say that Harry had been astonished would be an understatement of epic proportions.

Even Uncle Vernon seemed to have a slightly different personality these days, if the stories he relayed about his work were any indication. Yes, his relatives certainly were changing, and Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of this fact. He had absolutely no idea how it had happened, and while he suspected that the 'friend juice' was ultimately to blame, it just didn't make sense. Unctuous Unction was supposed to cause the drinker to view whoever it had been keyed to as their best friend, not to make the drinker a nicer, kinder person in general.

All these thoughts flashed through Harry's mind, as they did so often these days, but he didn't let Dudley see any trace of what he was thinking.

"Thanks, Harry," the much, much larger boy said with obvious relief. "And, sorry about everything I used to do to you," he added in a softer voice.

Harry shrugged half-heartedly. "You were a kid and it's in the past," he finally replied.

Dudley didn't seem to know what to say to that, so he just went back to his room. Harry watched him go with a small frown. The idea of being on better terms with his relatives was a nice one, but it wasn't easy given how much unpleasant history there was between them.

* * *

A few days later, Peter reported that the former Durmstrang professor, Anatoli Ivankov, had agreed to come to England for three weeks to work with Harry.

It would be nice to have a real tutor, Harry thought as he read through his textbooks. Peter and Chad had taught him some things, but they just weren't particularly good at explaining things. And the less said about Mac's attempts to teach, the better. Further compounding the problem, Harry was getting into more complicated subject matter, and while the books were helpful, he still had many questions. It would be nice to see if someone with real teaching experience could help him learn more.

With a small sigh, Harry turned his attention once more to the book in front of him. While arithmancy had seemed interesting when he first heard about it, after reading the first few chapters of the book, he was much less enthused. Instead of the in-depth analysis of the inner workings of magic, this book made it seem that the subject was more focused on the significance of certain numbers, allowing one to gain insight into the properties of particular objects or dates (or even people, which Harry thought was quite a stretch).

Suppressing a sigh, he turned his attention back to the book in front of him and continued reading.

_For though some may question, we know through a multitude of proofs that throughout all the world, it is by the power of seven that the mightiest of deeds have been accomplished. Indeed, from times of old we have seen that all great workers of magic may be separated into seven primary divisions. And it was by the valorous acts of the seven mages of Trelure that the dark wizard Kaerus was vanquished. And it was with seven signs of the heavens that Merlin did call forth the waters which lead unto Avalon. And for years the forces of Maceryn did lay siege unto the fortress of Risathyn, but it was not until the seventh year, on the seventh day of the seventh month that the forces of good did finally prevail. And were there not seven great swords of the ancient kingdom of Albion, and was not the seventh the greatest of them all? Yea, through these, and other such proofs, we can know of a surety that seven is, in all things, the number which doth hold the greatest power._

Rolling his eyes, Harry sat back in his chair with a groan. _Yes, that's really going to help me against Voldemort_, the boy thought sarcastically as he set the book off to the side and replaced it with his introductory text for runes. _At least this one is somewhat useful, even if it does require a lot of memorization._

* * *

The following Monday, Harry arrived at the hunting cabin they were using as headquarters with all of his books in tow early in the morning. He was also carrying the trunk that would lead to timeland, though, as usual, he kept that hidden.

Peter arrived soon afterward, accompanied by Harry's new tutor. The young Gryffindor took a moment to study the man. Professor Emeritus Anatoli Ivankov was the very incarnation of an arcane scholar. Wearing a formal, dark robe and carrying a small bag with a collection of quills poking out the top, the man peered at Harry through thick glasses with an expression of curiosity and excitement.

"Mister Potter. Is pleasure to meet you. I suppose this explains secrecy," the man said with a heavy accent as he held his hand out.

"Yes, we're trying to keep this quiet, so thank you for agreeing to my requirements regarding privacy," Harry replied, giving the man a firm handshake.

"This is understandable," Ivankov said. "Now, what subject should be first?"

"Arithmancy and Runes are the main things that I would like to focus on," Harry responded. "You taught Runes, correct?"

"Runes in beginning years, and what you call Rituals in later years, but I can teach almost all subjects. Not herbology, and not foretelling."

* * *

Harry was pleased and relieved to note that, despite the accent, the professor was easily understood and (as was apparent after less than an hour) very, very good at his job.

"So, in the book that I read, the author talked about the magical properties of different numbers. Is that really all that arithmancy is?" Harry asked. "That's not quite what I was expecting."

"That is form of arithmancy called numerology. Study of special numbers. How it is in this country, I not know, but in Durmstrang, this is not considered real arithmancy."

"So, the book is wrong?" Harry asked, inwardly smirking as he imagined Hermione's reaction if she were to hear such a statement.

Ivankov seemed almost amused by the question. "Is it wrong? I cannot say. Magic is, at most basic, ability to change reality with mind," the professor explained, pointing to his head for emphasis. "So, if many people believe that certain number is special, perhaps that number become special." He frowned for a moment, then shrugged. "Is difficult to know truth of magic. Magic is like water, not like rock. Always changing. But for you, I think it best to learn about other part of arithmancy."

"What other part?" The excitement in Harry's voice was clear.

"Arithmancy is study of logic behind magic. Everything in world can be described in numbers. How tall is tree, how fast is light. All science is numbers. Arithmancy is same. It is learning to understand magic with numbers."

"I thought you just said that magic is always changing?" Harry objected.

"To determine specifics of magic is very difficult, maybe not possible. But we can understand basic principles, and this is enough for now."

Harry expression must have betrayed his confusion, for his tutor continued. "For now, we concentrate on runes. Then, I teach you how to combine runes, how to use them. And then you see why understanding numbers is so important."

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Peter asked after the professor left that afternoon.

"He knows his stuff. The accent takes a little getting used to, but I can understand him just fine," Harry replied. "He does a good job of using real world examples that I can understand, and showing how the different subjects relate. Today we focused mainly on runes, but he was able to tie that in to charms and astronomy a little bit." Harry thought back for a few minutes. "It was good. I think it will be a productive few weeks," he concluded.

"Did you end up going to Timeland over lunch like you were planning?" his friend inquired.

"I did." Harry nodded. "Spent a day there. I didn't need the whole time to review what we covered this morning, but that makes sense because we were just getting started, so I did some study on my own with the charms and transfiguration books for this year. I imagine that in the future I'll be spending more time on what we cover."

"It's an effective way to learn the material while it's still fresh in your brain. Are you going to tell Ivankov about it?"

Harry frowned. "I don't think so. I know that the contract he signed includes a comprehensive secrecy clause, but I still would prefer to keep that information restricted to those who really need to know."

"That's your choice," the older man replied. "Are you going to go to use the vault any more tonight?"

"I need to get back to the Dursleys soon. I promised Dudley we'd go over some exercises in the park. But after that, I'll probably put in a day or two."

"Just be careful not to overuse it," Peter warned. "You've already aged almost two years more than you should have. People may not have noticed before because you were originally one of the youngest in your year, but there's a very large difference between a thirteen-year-old and a fifteen-year-old. People are going to start to wonder why you look so much older than the rest of your peers."

"I'll come up with an excuse," Harry replied. "If nothing else, I can suggest that it must have something to do with how I survived when Voldemort tried to kill me. Some side effect, or something. It's not like anybody could prove me wrong."

"Still, be careful not to use it too much. I don't think that your parents would have wanted you to spend your whole life studying in isolation."

Normally, Harry tended to be a bit sensitive when people made allusions to what his parents would have wanted, but in this case, he had to admit that Peter had a valid point. "Will do," he finally replied. "Now I need to get back to Little Whinging."

"Right," Peter said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The question of whether or not to tell his tutor about Timeland weighed on Harry. His first instinct was to keep it a secret, but he couldn't deny that his summer tuition would be much more effective if Ivankov could plan his lessons around Harry's ability to study in a time compression vault. Unfortunately, it only took a few days for that choice to be taken from him.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Professor," Harry said evasively.

"Mister Potter," Professor Ivankov explained patiently. "You are smart boy. But you are not genius. When I teach in morning, you learn quickly, but still, it take time for you to understand. But, after lunch, you understand everything I taught in morning as though you have studied for days. Same at night. Each morning you have great understanding of things you still struggled with day before. How you do this, I am most curious." The man peered at the boy through his thick glasses. "I have promised to teach to best of my ability. And I have promised to keep secrets. If I know how you do this, I can plan lessons to use this advantage, and you will learn more."

Harry remained silent for a few seconds, thinking carefully, before finally relenting. "Before they died, my parents created a… special training area where time goes faster. During lunch I go there and have a day or two to study what we learned in the morning."

Ivankov muttered something in his native language. "Most impressive. Very clever, your parents must have been. How do you activate and deactivate the time field? This, I have never heard of."

"The… time field… is always active," the dark-haired boy explained. "My parents had a set of matching vanishing cabinets. One of them is in a trunk I keep with me, the other is in Timeland. That's what I call the facility," Harry clarified. "I can travel through the vanishing cabinets in order to get into the facility."

Again, the professor said something that Harry didn't understand. "This sort of time field is not new," he said, sounding very impressed. "Many people know about it. But, always the difficulty is, how to use. It takes months for time field to fully activate, and takes months for field to fully deactivate, then, is safe for person to leave. For most people, to use does not make sense. It take too long to be practical. But, your parents found way to bypass that problem. Very clever."

Ivankov paused for a moment, looking intently at Harry. "Now, question is, why you are using? Every day spent in there is one less day of your life in real world. Why you sacrifice like that? Just to have good grades?" he asked sternly.

"No, I don't really care about the grades," Harry protested, then sighed. "Do you know about Voldemort?"

"Of course," came the curt reply.

"He's still alive, and trying to regain a body. I need to be prepared, because I really can't trust Dumbledore or the Ministry to stop him. I don't know how I survived as a baby, but I'd rather not rely on that sort of luck again."

The professor nodded thoughtfully. "So, you seek knowledge for fight against your enemy."

"Yes," Harry replied simply.

Ivankov picked up one of the textbooks. "This," he said, waving the textbook somewhat dismissively, "this, it will not help you. At least, it will not be enough. If you intend to fight, you must learn magic for fighting."

"I've heard that Durmstrang teaches the Dark Arts," Harry said carefully.

The professor scoffed. "Dark Arts? No. Durmstrang does not teach to torture or mutilate. Durmstrang teaches to fight. It is not Dark Arts. It is combat magic. And Durmstrang has very good reason for that," the old man added, fixing Harry with a piercing stare.

Harry said nothing, but tried to keep his expression calm as he matched the man's gaze.

"Good, you have steel. I tell you story, then we discuss what to teach next," Ivankov said.

The old professor settled back in his chair, looking off into the distance as though remembering something. "When I go to Durmstrang many years ago, is era of peace. Durmstrang headmaster, and many others, have idea. Magic make so many things easy. No need to fight. He talk often about..." Ivankov trailed off, deep in thought. "In English, not sure how you say. Perhaps, beat swords into plowshares? Come from Bible. But, point is, use magic to help build better society, not to fight. This, I was taught, and many others as well."

Ivankov shifted, leaning forward slightly. "Then _he_ came. Grindelwald. He conquered country after country, and none could fight him. He gathered worst of people, criminals and vicious men, and used them to force others to do his bidding. That is when my people learned terrible truth. That those who beat swords into plowshares will plow for those who do not. And since that time, it has been rule at Durmstrang. Every Durmstrang student must learn to defend himself and his country! That is only way to have true freedom," the professor finished, his voice fervent.

"So, you wish to learn to defend against dark lord, like Durmstrang student learn? I will help."

* * *

A/N – Sorry about my unexpected absence last week. I was very busy with work, and was a little under the weather, so I decided it would be better to hold off rather than posting a half finished chapter of dubious quality.

Also, just a bit about arithmancy. According to the HP Wiki, arithmancy is basically divination with numbers. I'm not sure if that's something that JKR said, or if they're just using the muggle interpretation of arithmancy, or what. But I don't really like that idea, so I'll be using something different. I'm going to say that real arithmancy is basically an attempt to de-mystify magic (which also explains why Hermione likes it so much). In some ways, it would be fair to call it the magical equivalent of physics or chemistry. I'll be expanding more on that later in the story.


	6. Chapter 5: A Near Miss

Chapter 5: A Near Miss

Harry woke up and stretched as he looked around the small room. A glance over at the clock showed that he had plenty of time before he needed to leave, so he indulged himself with a nice workout followed by a long shower. After a nice, hearty breakfast, he stopped by the office to gather the materials he had been studying the night before, then made his way to the vanishing cabinet.

As he climbed out of the trunk and into his room in the hunting cabin the door opened, and the now familiar face of Professor Ivankov appeared.

"You have returned. Good. You completed assignment?" he asked without preamble.

With effort, Harry suppressed a small smile. The professor had been fascinated by this method of learning, and quickly arranged his lesson plans to take advantage of the compressed time available to the young Gryffindor. Now, Harry had lessons from 9 AM to 10:30, followed by a thirty-minute break, allowing him to spend a day in Timeland reviewing and doing homework while Ivankov prepared his next lesson. A similar break at 12:30 and 2:30 ensured that his lessons each day were separate into manageable chunks, which gave Harry the time to fully understand each new concept before moving onto the next.

It was a very efficient system, and both teacher and student were pleased with the progress Harry was making.

"All homework is done and I have no questions," Harry reported as he handed the papers filled with runic diagrams over to the professor, who flipped through them for a few moments as he sat down at the desk, just to ensure that Harry had properly understood.

Ivankov looked up with a smile. "Good. You are learning well. Now, I also told you to think of how to use this for fighting. What ideas do you have?"

Harry couldn't help a somewhat sheepish smile that spread across his face. "I had an idea, but I'm not entirely sure how it would work. We've talked about using linked runes and anchored charms to produce conditional magical effects used in enchanting. I wonder if I could use the same technique to basically produce a suit of enchanted armor, that could automatically activate a shield charm when needed."

The old professor considered this idea for a moment. "Is an interesting idea. But why use conditional effects? Why not have shields always on?" he inquired, his tone not disapproving, but rather, almost as though he was testing Harry.

"I did a little bit of research, and I know that enchanted armor isn't particularly new," the boy began. "There's two main methods. Normally, the armor is spelled with protective magic like an unbreakable charm to make it more durable. The problem with this method is that it only protects what it covers, and most people don't want to walk around in a full suit of plate mail all day. The other option is to have the armor enchanted so that it is essentially casting a shield charm continuously when activated, but since it draws energy from the wearer, the shield needs to be weak or the wearer will be drained after just a few minutes. I think that there should be a way to use linked runes that would sense an incoming spell, and trigger a full body shield for just long enough to block the attack. This could possibly be achieved using a very weak outer shield, and a stronger inner shield that activates when the first one is broken."

Ivankov nodded approvingly. "Is clever idea. Go around the problem, not through it. But it will take time. New ideas always take time to perfect. Any other thoughts?"

Harry stopped to think for a bit. "I also wonder if it would be possible to have the armor gather and store magical energy, like wards do. Though we haven't covered wards, so I really don't know if that's feasible. And I wonder if it would be possible to have some sort of anchored transfiguration, like you showed me with anchored charms, allowing an object to switch between two shapes on command."

"This is possible," the professor replied, looking curious. "How does this help?"

"Well, if you could have your armor on, but transfigured into something much less cumbersome, you could wear it on a regular basis, and if you were in danger, then you switch it into…" Harry struggled for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain what he was thinking. "Full body mode," he finally said.

"I am not sure this would work," Ivankov said, frowning thoughtfully. "But maybe. Problem is making sure that transfiguration does not conflict with protective charms on armor. If just transfiguration to change shape, maybe it work. But if transfiguration also change mass, I do not think so." The old man shrugged. "But, we can experiment and maybe find way."

"But first," the professor said in a slightly louder voice. "We must continue on with next stage of lessons. Now, we use arithmancy to determine how much power goes to each rune in series. To start, we look at first diagram in the homework you have just done."

Harry settled into his chair, focusing on the professor's words. The idea of some sort of magical combat armor had been bouncing around in his brain for a while now. It was nice to see that the idea might not be as far-fetched as he had thought.

* * *

After the professor left for the day, Harry took a few minutes to walk around outside the cabin. It was beautiful up here, so far away from civilization. The cabin itself was set on a small hill, providing an impressive view of the surrounding terrain. The boy settled into one of the chairs and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

A soft creak around the side of the cabin drew his attention. "Harry?" a familiar voice called out.

"Over here, Peter," he responded.

"How did today's lesson go?" the older man asked as he walked around the corner to the back porch.

"Very well," Harry said with real enthusiasm. "I'm learning a lot. The new schedule works well."

"Good," Peter replied, sounding pleased.

"So, what do you have for me?" Harry asked.

"I finished looking into the man that Malcom Prewitt recommended. Ferdinand Falkenson. He's got some skills that could be useful, but there are some complications," he answered as he handed a folder over to Harry, who glanced at it briefly before turning his attention back to Peter.

"Do you think it would be worth approaching him?"

"Despite being a pureblood, he's completely left the wizarding world, so I doubt that he would be a risk to our plans. Now, he's self-employed, working as a business consultant. A _very successful_ business consultant," Peter stressed. "Would he be interested in working with us? I don't know. But I think that we should at least talk with him."

Harry nodded. "Alright, set something up. I'll read your notes on the guy. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing that requires your involvement right now," Peter replied. "Things are going well with the team, though we're still getting the new office set up. Mac has a few people he'd like to hire for the 'bodyguard service', though I haven't had a chance to meet any of them yet. Chad should be back in a few weeks, and Connor was approved for a leave of absence from his company, so he'll be able to work full-time for us for the next year, at which point he'll have to decide if he wants to stay with us or go back. Michelle has already started looking into You-Know-Who's past, and thinks that your parents were right about him being Tom Riddle. Unfortunately, there really isn't much to go on there." Peter shrugged. "But it's still early days. In a few weeks, when you're finished with your lessons with Ivankov, we should get back into the habit of regular coordination meetings."

"That would be good," Harry replied. "I'd like to be doing them now, but with how long I spend at Timeland…" He trailed off with a sigh. Because of how much extra time he spent in the time compression vault, weekly coordination meetings were more than a month apart for him, making it difficult to remember what had been discussed at the last meeting. Add in the fact that everyone was still settling into their new roles, meaning that there was very little progress that required his attention, and it just made more sense for him to concentrate on his education for now, and leave managing the team in Peter's capable hands.

"We all understand," Peter reassured the boy. "Getting a head start on your classes now will give you a big advantage during the school year."

Harry nodded, then glanced at his watch. "I should be getting back home. I promised Dudley we'd go to the park and workout for a while."

* * *

After returning home from the park, Harry took a quick shower, then settled into his room. Thanks to the Unctuous Unction, his relatives were treating him more like family should, and one of the many changes had included his room. Where before, he had been forced to sleep on a lumpy mattress surrounded by Dudley's old, predominately broken toys, now he had a nice bed with new sheets and pillows. A small, but well-made desk sat in the corner with a bright lamp on it, convenient for studying.

At this time, however, Harry was laying on his bed as he read a book from the library at Timeland, hoping to gain some insight into a spell that had been challenging him for months.

The book did warn that the Patronus charm was very difficult, and many fully trained wizards and witches were incapable of casting it, but that was little consolation for Harry. The ability to send a message instantly without relying on the floo network or technomancy like Chad's communicators was just too good to pass up. The fact that, once mastered, it would also provide protection from dementors was an added bonus, so Harry had been working on it diligently for quite some time. Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, all he could produce was a white mist that didn't seem to be good for anything.

Of course, he couldn't practice here in his room without being detected by the ministry (that was what Timeland was for) but it didn't stop him from reading different books, hoping to find the secret that he was missing. But whatever that missing secret was, it wasn't going to be found in that particular tome, he realized as he set the book down with a groan. _I should ask Mac. I bet he'd know how to cast it_, Harry thought. The old Hitwizard wasn't the most patient instructor, but surely he could give the younger Gryffindor a few pointers.

Either way, it was a problem for another day. Stretching as he stood, he walked over and turned out the lights, then climbed into bed.

* * *

Not all of Harry's lessons with Ivankov were focused on Runes and Arithmancy. There were plenty of other topics, and the good professor had a wealth of knowledge in almost every subject. Even in disciplines that were taught reasonably well at Hogwarts, there was still some advantage in going over things with the former Durmstrang professor. For example, the current discussion about combat applications of transfiguration. He didn't want to imagine what McGonagall would say if he had asked about that in her class.

"It can be difficult to fight with transfiguration," the professor replied in answer to Harry's question. "It require very quick thought and spell-casting. Most people, they do not train themselves to cast transfiguration spells so quickly, so, they are vulnerable when they try. And, if opponent recognize that an object is transfigured, they can disrupt transfiguration without difficulty. But, that does not mean it not work. Just take practice."

"What about, for example, transfiguring or conjuring animals to attack somebody?" Harry suggested, thinking back to the disastrous dueling lesson of the past year.

"That is common use, but again, if you do this, you must be able to cast the spells very quickly." A devious smile spread across the professor's face. "Something I have heard, but never done, is to use transfiguration another way, but you must prepare in advance."

Ivankov thought for a moment, frowning in contemplation. "Suppose that you want to attack your opponent using bees," he finally said. "You can transfigure objects around you into bees, and they follow your command and attack, but it take much time. Or, you gather real bees ahead of time, and transfigure them into small ball. Then, during fight, cancel transfiguration and throw ball at opponent." He looked at Harry with a gimlet eye. "You remember how to cancel transfiguration with time delay?" he inquired. When Harry nodded, he continued. "So, you do this. Cast spell to cancel transfiguration, then throw ball. A few seconds later, ball turn back into swarm of angry bees."

"Like a grenade," Harry realized. "Only instead of an explosion, there's a bunch of bees flying around attacking them."

"Precisely. It take preparation, but is very effective."

Harry thought for a moment. "You said that transfigurations can't undergo chemical or magical reactions, right? That's why you can't transfigure food or potions ingredients or things like that. But, you could transfigure a potion into something else that is harmless, and it won't have any effect until the spell is removed or wears off. So, if you were to transfigure an aerosolized potion into something that looked innocent, your enemy would be caught off guard when you threw it at them."

"Now you are understanding," his teacher replied with a grin. "Remember, you are not fighting duel. No need to follow rules. Prepare in advance, and battle is already half-won."

* * *

Stepping off the Knight Bus, Harry quickly entered the Leaky Cauldron, idly wondering if the muggles on the street ever noticed people suddenly appearing and then disappearing just as soon. Or maybe there was a large confundus charm located around the whole area to prevent anyone from paying attention to such strange occurrences. It wasn't any of his concern, really, but it wasn't something he had ever considered before. Of course, since he usually was struggling not to lose his lunch anytime he stepped off the bus, it was logical that he had never had the time for such a passing thought. This time, however, he had been smart and taken the calming draught before getting on the bus, rather than waiting until he arrived.

As he passed through the tavern, he gave a quick wave to the friendly bartender, Tom, then exited out the back. With a sigh, he squared his shoulders and tapped on the brick that would open the gateway into Diagon Alley. These days, Harry came here every Saturday, making sure that he had plenty of time to talk with people and share his views on the corruption in the ministry and the need for serious reforms. It was more important than ever now that the Ministry had begun fighting back, in a sense.

Cornelius Fudge had held a press conference in the middle of the alley, explaining that there was no truth to the rumors being spread by 'frightened children' about the imminent return of You-Know-Who, or about malfeasance on the part of the Ministry. The Daily Prophet had quickly followed suit, and now, they seemed to delight in taking every opportunity to call into question his sanity or maturity.

Unfortunately, many people were listening to them, though there were also some who continued to support Harry. It was frustrating, but he knew that in the end, people would know that he was telling the truth.

He forced a smile onto his face as the shoppers turned to get a better look at him. Soon enough, he was shaking hands and having (mostly) polite discussions with the wizards and witches who had come to the alley today.

* * *

Two hours later, he was back on the Knight Bus, heading home. It was tiresome having to spend time with so many people, and to pretend that he was enjoying himself, but it needed to be done. Today's attempts at putting into practice a recent suggestion from Michelle had been well received. Rather than simply signing autographs (which he detested) for free, he now required a pledge that the person requesting his signature would do something nice for someone else that they would not normally do. People seemed to take it in stride, especially the children, most of whom had made solemn promises to help their siblings out with chores or help their mother cook dinner, which brought smiles to the faces of everyone nearby.

Stepping off the bus onto the street, Harry looked around to ensure that nobody had seen him appear from nowhere, then walked up the driveway and into the house. Uncle Vernon was gone for the day, spending some time with some old friends from school, but Aunt Petunia and Dudley were home. He could hear his aunt puttering around in the kitchen, likely working on a new recipe for healthy cookies that she had found. She had almost shed tears of pride when Dudley had announced his intention to begin eating healthier as part of his plan to get in better shape, and was certainly doing everything she could to encourage her son in this endeavor.

Calling a quick greeting to her, Harry walked up the stairs to his room. Just as he opened the door, Dudley poked his head out from his room.

"Hey Harry? Everything go okay?" his cousin asked.

Harry paused, his hand still on the barely open door as he turned to look at the larger boy. "Well enough," he replied. "Some people aren't willing to listen, but there are others who are," he finished with a shrug.

"Are we still going to do our exercises tonight?" Dudley asked.

Harry nodded. "Sure thing. Just let me get…"

He was cut off by a loud explosion in his room.

Harry stumbled back against the wall, a jolt of pain shooting through his arm as he fell to the ground, followed by a burning sensation. The bedroom door had bounced off his foot and now swung open, revealing strange, purple flames licking hungrily at the furniture in the room. Here and there, the explosion had torn through the sheathing on the outside walls, revealing the bare studs and the empty air beyond.

He could hear Dudley and his aunt screaming dimly in the background, though it seemed as though they were miles away. The young wizard stared into the mesmerizing flames, completely oblivious to the outside world until his cousin grabbed his shoulder in a meaty hand.

"Harry?" Dudley said, his voice tremulous as he pointed at his cousin's arm.

Harry looked down to see a large shard of wood sticking out of his right forearm. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a part of his chair. In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't be this calm, but whether it was due to the draught he had taken earlier in the day, or because he was in shock, he didn't know.

Aunt Petunia raced up the stairs, her face almost completely white as she came into view of the boys. "What just happened?" she asked, her voice little more than a horrified whisper.

Once more staring into the burning room, Harry replied in a detached, almost emotionless voice.

"I think someone just tried to kill me."


	7. Chapter 6: Investigation

Chapter 6: Investigation

Harry glanced up as the door opened, and a grim-looking man in a suit entered. He and Dudley shared a look. This wasn't the first visitor that had come by in the past few hours. It was quite clear that the bobbies in Little Whinging hadn't had the faintest clue what to do about a bomb going off in a quiet neighborhood, so there had been a lot of very polite and orderly panic. That meant that Harry and the Dursleys had been shown to a waiting room and asked to stay put until a specialist arrived. People came in periodically to apologize for the lack of any news and to ask if they needed anything, but they had apparently been given strict orders not to ask for any details of the incident until the so-called expert was on site. And judging by the knowing gleam in the man's eyes as he focused on Harry, the wait was finally over.

Rather than taking a seat, the man walked over to one corner and unplugged the camera up near the ceiling. Only then did he walk over to the table where the other four occupants were waiting.

"Charles Wilcox, Ravenclaw. Graduated in 1968," he said without preamble.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Muggleborn?" he asked.

The man simply nodded in response.

"And now you work for the government," Harry realized.

"Correct. We've taken over the investigation. Well," the older man clarified with a grimace, "we've taken over what we can after the mess the Aurors left behind. They arrived quite quickly, using confundus charms to secure the area without any of the regular investigators realizing what was happening. From what we can tell, they took a few pictures, gathered some samples, then generally mucked it all up, probably in an attempt to disguise any hint of magic being used. As such, our investigation isn't going to be worth much."

"Are you telling me that they're just going to get away with it?" Uncle Vernon demanded, his face beginning to turn purple with rage. Harry wasn't sure if his uncle was referring to the Aurors or whoever had planted the bomb. In some ways, Harry was surprised that the man hadn't begun ranting at the idea of the government employing 'freaks', but he was still grateful that his uncle was at least trying to be reasonable.

"We'll do what we can, but I'm not optimistic," was the reply.

"How did you know that the explosion was magical?" Harry asked curiously.

"We know who you are, Mister Potter. We try to keep an eye on the other world. So, when the report was filed, it set off a lot of big alarms for the people in the know."

"How many of you are there?" Aunt Petunia's voice was quiet, but there was an emotion there that Harry couldn't quite identify.

"I can't tell you an exact number," Wilcox responded, "but I can say that it isn't enough. Our team was first put together sixteen years ago when it became blatantly obvious that the magicals couldn't control their people. Unfortunately, we simply can't project enough power to prevent the magicals from doing whatever they want. All we can do is try to mitigate damage and pick up the pieces afterward."

"Like now," Harry remarked.

"Like now," the man agreed before changing the topic. "We'll arrange for a suitable cover story, one that doesn't place any blame on you. You might be interested to know that the Aurors investigating the scene left a compulsion that made our people think that you were trying to cook up some sort of illegal substance, possibly methamphetamine."

"Doesn't surprise me too much," Harry commented bitterly. "The ministry doesn't like me much these days. The feeling is mutual."

"Yes," Mister Wilcox replied. "We're aware of that. As I said, we do try to keep informed of the major developments in magical society."

"So what does this mean for us?" Uncle Vernon interjected.

"We'll ensure that you get the full insurance payment as soon as possible without raising any eyebrows," Wilcox replied. "In the meantime, I can arrange for contractors to repair the damage. Or, if you'd like, we could arrange for you to move to a new home."

"Dumbledore included a letter when Harry was left on our doorstep, saying that Harry needed to stay there," Aunt Petunia offered. "He claimed that there were protections."

"Obviously, not enough," Vernon groused.

The government agent nodded, but didn't directly respond to Vernon's observation. "If you would like my professional opinion, I doubt that your attacker will stop here. But, I also doubt that they will use such a direct method next time, nor will it be any time soon. I'd guess that you'll be at a greater risk when you return to Hogwarts."

"I don't suppose that Her Majesty's government has any way to arrange for wards to be put up around the house?" Harry inquired. He could, of course, ask Connor to establish some wards, but that might raise questions Harry would rather not answer.

"Not without admitting our involvement in this situation, which, I'm sorry to say, simply isn't an option at this time," the man replied, seemingly genuinely remorseful at his inability to help.

A knock sounded at the door, causing everyone to turn and look.

"Enter," Wilcox barked, and the door opened to reveal a short, dark-haired woman who looked to be about Uncle Vernon's age, holding an archaic-looking envelope.

"Bloody wavers sent it their usual way without the slightest concern that somebody might see," she said as she tossed the envelope onto the table in front of Harry. He picked it up with a frown, then quickly tore it open.

"Wavers?" Dudley asked.

"Wand-wavers," the woman replied, but was cut off before she could say anything more.

"What does the letter say?" Wilcox interrupted, looking intently at Harry.

"It's from the Ministry of Magic. I'm being summoned to a disciplinary hearing on August 11th, at the DMLE," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady despite the sinking feeling that was growing steadily in his gut. "A decision regarding my punishment will be made at that time."

* * *

Having a week and a half to prepare should have been a good thing. Unfortunately, there was one minor difficulty. Given that the Aurors had deliberately contaminated the crime scene, the reports from the non-magical investigators were all but useless, and Harry's efforts to procure reports from the Auror Office had been… less than successful.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot give you any details regarding ongoing investigations without authorization from Mister Scrimgeour," the woman at the desk replied, her expression inscrutable. "If you would like, I can leave a message for him."

"I have tried leaving a message, and have sent him two letters by owl," Harry retorted, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "It hasn't helped. May I schedule a time to meet with him? Or if not him, with the Aurors investigating this case?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mister Scrimgeour is very busy right now, and I cannot inform you of whom the investigating Aurors are. If they feel a need to talk with you, they will contact you."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, or yell at the infuriating woman. "Very well," he finally ground out. "Please inform Mister Scrimgeour… yet again… that I would like to speak with him regarding the attempt on my life."

"I will convey your message," the woman replied evenly.

Harry resisted the urge to storm out, remembering Peter's advice from the previous year about always remaining calm and in control while in public. Politely thanking the secretary, he walked quickly to the exit, head held high, ignoring the gawkers.

He never saw the pink-haired woman watching him with a speculative gleam in her eye.

* * *

Though it was difficult to focus on his education with so many other issues competing for his attention, Harry insisted on continuing lessons with Professor Ivankov. It was frustrating, because he knew that there were more important matters that he should be dealing with, but at the same time, it was a relief because his hands were tied. Without any real information about what had happened, there was no way that he could prepare for the upcoming hearing or investigate on his own to determine who had tried to kill him.

As usual, the portkey returned him to the park down on Magnolia Crescent, and he began the trek back home, his mind still awhirl. His hearing at the DMLE would take place in just two days, and he still had not had any luck in getting any official information about the attempt on his life, or about what he would face at the hearing. Given that the letter from the ministry made it sound as though his guilt had already been determined, it was clear that the hearing was nothing more than a formality.

As was so often these days, a fire burned in his stomach, raging at the injustice of it all, but he pushed it down. He would not let them win. Somehow, he would prevail.

As he turned the corner onto Privet Drive, Harry took a moment to look at Number Four. True to his word, Charles Wilcox had arranged for contractors to come out the very next day, swiftly repairing the damage. The walls and siding had been replaced, and now they were just waiting for the painters to finish. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had decided to take the opportunity to have the house repainted, but had taken about a week to make a final selection on the color, which had delayed the process a bit. Still, they would likely be finished within a few days, and then it would be like nothing had ever happened.

Opening the door, he was not surprised to see his relatives gathered around the table, already eating.

"Sorry I'm late," he called. "I stayed after to talk with Peter for a while."

"That's alright," Aunt Petunia replied. "We weren't sure when you would be back, so we started without you. Sorry about not waiting."

"That's alright," Harry replied, caught a little off guard at the concern in her voice. He was getting more accustomed to it, but it still surprised him at times when his relatives acted like real family. It was a bittersweet reminder of how things might have been growing up for him if not for Voldemort.

"Well, there's plenty here, so drop your stuff off and come join us," Uncle Vernon said before turning his attention once more to the feast in front of him.

Harry took the stairs two at a time, rushing up, and opened the door to his room before freezing in shock. A moment of panic set in, and he quickly looked around for any sign of an intruder, but everything seemed to be as he had left it. Everything except for the official-looking file laying on his pillow, that is.

Harry cautiously walked over, peering closely for any sign of a trap, though if he were to be honest with himself, he really didn't think he would recognize anything suspicious even if he did see it. Pushing aside the concern, he grabbed the folder and opened it, staring in shock at the contents.

He reached for the communicator that Chad had made months ago, quickly placing it up to his ear. "Connect to Peter," he said clearly, then waited for the other man to answer the call. Finally, the ringing stopped, and Harry could hear a familiar voice.

"Harry? Is everything all right?" Peter sounded worried. Not surprising, given that they had just spoken less than an hour ago, and as far as they other man knew, there was no reason for the Gryffindor to be contacting him.

"I'm fine. But someone snuck into my room while I was gone. They left behind a copy of the Auror's report on what happened last Saturday."

* * *

A knock sounded at the back door, and Harry quickly opened it, gesturing for Peter to enter.

"Sorry about coming in the back, but I thought it was best just in case someone was watching," the man explained.

"Good idea," Harry replied. "Come on, the report's on the table in the kitchen," he said, gesturing. "I've already read it, but I'd like your opinion as well."

Peter took a few minutes to carefully peruse the contents before setting it back on the table with a worried look on his face. "Whoever did this was clever."

"Yes, if I hadn't survived, it would have been difficult to prove that it wasn't an accident," Harry agreed. "And I imagine that the Daily Prophet would just love a headline of 'Harry Potter blows himself up trying to brew an illegal, mind-altering potion'," the boy finished dryly.

"The question is, how much can we trust this report? Were the Aurors involved in the conspiracy? And is this even the real report? It could have been faked," the older man pointed out.

Harry shook his head. "I thought about that, but it just doesn't make sense. I would have been caught completely off-guard at the hearing. This at least gives me a chance to prepare to defend myself."

"Unless that's what they want," the older man countered. "They can argue that if you were innocent, there was no way that you could have known that the explosion was caused by a mistake in brewing that particular potion."

"That… is a very good point," Harry admitted with a frown. "I didn't consider that. So I need to be careful not to reveal any information that I learned from this report."

"Or, we need to find an alternate way that you could have learned it through your own investigation." Peter said thoughtfully before glancing at the large clock on the wall. "I think it would be best if we took this to Timeland."

Harry glanced over at his friend, surprised. "I thought you didn't like spending extra time there?"

"We only have 36 hours to find a way to prove your innocence here," Peter replied. "Desperate times call for desperate measures. Your parents had a pretty good library there. Lily's texts will be a big help for learning more about this potion, and that will give us time to carefully analyze the report. The Aurors made it very clear that they are convinced you are to blame. We need to find a way to explain how the attack could have been arranged without you even knowing about it."

Harry nodded as he pulled out the trunk and resized it, then they both climbed down the ladder.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was feeling quite a bit more optimistic about the whole thing. Unfortunately, this good mood didn't last long, as Peter burst into the cabin during his lesson with Ivankov.

"We've got a problem," the man said quickly. "I received a message from a contact in the Ministry. One of the employees in the maintenance department was trying to get a message to Harry Potter. He didn't trust me to pass on the message, insisting that you meet him in person. He said that it has something to do with your hearing tomorrow. I set up a meeting at the Leaky Cauldron in thirty minutes."

"Any chance this is a trap?" Harry asked, standing quickly. Realizing that he was ignoring the professor, he turned back to his teacher. "My apologies, Professor, but…"

"Apology is not needed. Do what you must," the old man interrupted with a no-nonsense tone of voice.

"I think this is real," Peter replied in answer to his earlier question. "The man is named Reginald Cattermole. I'm about 90% sure that he was the one that leaked the memo from Umbridge's office last year. His wife is a muggleborn, and there's nothing I've found about him that suggests he is a blood purist. If anything, he probably took a big risk trying to find a way to contact you."

"Then let's go," Harry replied, already walking to the door.

* * *

Reginald Cattermole was a small wizard with a rather unfortunate resemblance to a ferret. He glanced nervously around the room as Peter cast a few spells to ensure their privacy then canceled the glamours on Harry.

"Mister Potter, an honor to meet you," the anxious man said with a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Cattermole. I apologize about being abrupt, but as you can probably imagine, I don't have a lot of time right now," Harry replied candidly. "I assume that whatever it is you've contacted me about, it is quite important."

"Yes, I was…" the blue-robe clad man paused, gathering his thoughts. "I work at the ministry, in Maintenance. It's not an important position, but we are kept informed of the goings-on in all the departments. That's what I wanted to tell you. I just learned that the Minister's office has called for an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow morning, first thing. I don't know exactly what it's about, but I heard whispers that it has something to do with you. The way the ministry's been laying into you for telling the truth…" An expression of concern and fear flitted across the man's face. "I thought it best to make sure you knew."

"Thank you," Harry replied fervently. "That's important information. You probably just saved me a great deal of trouble."

"Where is the meeting being held, and what time?" Peter's voice was controlled, but there was an undercurrent of urgency.

"I don't know an exact time. We were just told to make sure that the room was ready first thing. Normal hours begin at eight, so that would be my guess. And it's in the old courtrooms," the man said. "Number ten, specifically."

"Where are the old courtrooms?" Peter asked, frowning in thought. "I've spent quite a bit of time in the ministry lately, and I don't think I've ever even heard of them."

"On the lower levels," Cattermole replied. "The lifts don't even go down that far. Why they would be meeting there, I don't know. I don't think they've been used since the Death Eater trials."

"Fudge is sure going out of his way to make a statement here," Harry muttered as the picture became all too clear.

* * *

After thanking Cattermole for the warning, they left the Cauldron, but rather than returning to non-magical London as he had expected, Harry instead found himself being rather forcefully steered to the back, and through the portal into Diagon Alley.

"Sorry, didn't want to explain in case someone was listening," Peter explained.

"So, why are we here?" Harry inquired.

"Like you said, the minister is doing this to make a statement. You need to make a statement of your own. And that means looking the part. We're getting you some dress robes."

"Dress robes?" Harry echoed in confusion.

"Yes, dress robes," came the response. "And not Madam Malkin's. Twilfitt and Tattings. Heather would be a lot better at this than I am, but I'm sure that we can find something that looks respectable. Probably going to have to pay a premium to have it ready in time, but it will be worth it."

* * *

The public entrance to the Ministry of Magic opened at 7 AM. On August 11th, Harry was the first person to enter the phone booth that lead into the government building. Just a few people were standing in the large atrium, most of them obviously employees. He had taken some simple disguising potions that he would cancel once he was inside, but for now, he was grateful to go unnoticed.

Repressing an urge to fidget in the formal grey robe (more precisely, charcoal grey with navy accents and black piping, as the pretentious tailor had informed him) he calmly approached the security desk, where a bored-looking man was waiting.

"Wand," the security guard said without even looking.

Harry handed his wand over with a touch of reluctance, and the guard placed it on a device that looked a little like a set of scales. There was a soft thrum as the scales began to vibrate, then a piece of parchment shot out the base.

"Eleven inches, phoenix feather core, been in use four and a half years," the man read. "Is that correct?"

"Yes," Harry replied, though inside he was panicking a little at the realization that anyone who inspected his wand closely enough would realize that he had some method of accelerating time.

"Here is your wand. Please be advised that the casting of any spells in the ministry building without authorization is prohibited, and is punishable by a fine or imprisonment, depending upon the severity of the spell in question," the man recited in a bored voice before turning his attention back to the magazine on his desk.

"Thank you," Harry replied politely before making his way to the restroom to take the neutralizer. _I should take a calming draught as well_, he thought. If things went as he expected, he would need it.

* * *

Harry stood patiently outside of a door labeled "Department of Magical Law Enforcement – Administration", smiling briefly as an idle thought crossed his mind that maybe he would end up coming here every year. After all, it had been almost twelve months to the day since he had first come here to discuss Dobby's warning with Madam Bones.

After about ten minutes, the secretary inside unlocked the door and ushered him into the waiting room. Harry took a moment to study the room, which had been changed quite a bit. The formerly welcoming ambiance had been replaced by something more stern and unyielding. Dark wooden chairs were positioned along the walls, and a matching table sat to one side.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked, interrupting his observations.

"I have a meeting today with Mister Scrimgeour, and possibly others as well," Harry said with a smile. "However, I was not informed of the location of the meeting. It's not scheduled to take place until ten, but because of issues relating to transportation, I'm here early, so I wanted to confirm the location to ensure I didn't accidentally cause a delay."

"Take a seat and I'll confirm with Mister Scrimgeour," the woman instructed him.

"Thank you," Harry replied.

After just a few minutes, Rufus Scrimgeour appeared, a calculating look on his leonine face.

"Mister Potter," he said in greeting with a slight nod of his head.

Harry kept his expression neutral, but couldn't resist a slight dig at the man. "Mister Scrimgeour. A pleasure to finally meet you."

Scrimgeour's face darkened momentarily, but he didn't directly respond to the implied accusation.

"Your hearing has been changed. Follow me, and we'll go there now.

Without hesitation, the man swept out of the office and began stalking through the halls at a rapid pace. Harry quickly followed, mind racing. Scrimgeour seemed to not be trying to keep Harry away from the trial. Did this mean that he was not in on the conspiracy? Or was it simply that he wasn't willing to participate in such an overt manner as to deliberately keep Harry away from the Wizengamot when Harry could prove he had arrived with plenty of time to spare? He certainly hadn't seemed surprised that the young Gryffindor had not been informed of the change, which, in Harry's mind, was plenty suspicious.

Scrimgeour led him to the lifts, then the pair traveled down to the lowest level, which the cheerful female voice announced as the "Department of Mysteries". As they stepped off, Harry could see a set of plain, black doors at the end of the corridor, but to his surprise, Scrimgeour instead turned to the left, and proceeded through an opening and down a flight of stairs.

Harry followed, noting the change in atmosphere as he went. Where most of the ministry seemed to display elegance bordering on opulence, here, the building resembled a dungeon more than a seat of government.

His thought from the previous day was certainly correct. The minister was trying to make a statement. To his dismay, Harry's mind began to drift to the various methods Fudge could use to ensure that Harry was found guilty here. Or was the trial nothing more than an excuse to get him down here where he would 'disappear' without a trace?

As these thoughts swarmed his mind, he fell back on an old trick that he had come across to keep himself from being distracted – reciting poems or passages that he had memorized. One in particular seemed very appropriate right about now.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

They passed door after door, each with a heavy iron bolt and keyhole. The room numbers were carved onto a small stone plaque set into the wall beside each door, the numbers slowly increasing. Ahead, he could see the door that, if his count was correct, would be number ten. As they drew closer, he could see that it was open, and there was light inside the room.

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

Harry glanced around the room as he entered. The dark stone walls stretched high, the domed ceiling above barely visible in the dim light of the torches along the walls. He strode calmly toward the intimidating chair in the center of the room, aware that he was being observed and judged even now. Fudge was doing everything in his power to portray Harry as a criminal. Harry intended to show that Fudge was wrong. And judging by the reactions of the Wizengamot elders in their plum-colored robes on the benches around him, it was working.

_I am the master of my fate:_

Harry was pleased to see the startled and concerned look on Fudge's face as he entered. The minister looked like he wanted to object, but, glancing around the room furtively, realized that he couldn't say anything. Instead, the portly man settled for glaring at Harry. Despite the overwhelming urge to smirk, Harry kept his face neutral.

_I am the captain of my soul._

The door swung shut behind him with a heavy thud that echoed throughout the cavernous room.

* * *

A/N - Harry is mentally reciting Invictus. As you may recall, this isn't the first time it's appeared in this story.


	8. Chapter 7: Trial

Chapter 7: Trial

Harry resisted the urge to fidget as he sat in the rough wooden chair. _Whoever designed this was clearly not concerned about the comfort of the person sitting in it,_ he thought, keeping a grimace off his face with some effort. Of course, given the thick, oppressive chains that looked as though they might come to life and strangle him at any moment, it was unlikely that anyone sat easily in this particular seat. Adding to the discomfort were the dozens of people up on the high benches in front of him, peering down as though he were an interesting specimen in a zoo.

And those were the more polite members of the Wizengamot. Here and there, Harry could see someone glaring at him with undisguised loathing. He thanked every deity he could think of that he had taken the calming draught before coming down. He needed to present an image of confidence. Sweating and trembling in front of them all would not help in that regard.

At least he could say that he had disrupted Fudge's plans. The overweight man was frowning at him with poorly concealed fury in his eyes, but Harry was pleased to see that there was some concern there as well. Or, at least, Harry thought that there was some concern. It was a little difficult to tell from this distance, and the poor lighting in the room certainly didn't help.

A few more people in purple robes entered and took a seat on the benches. By Harry's estimate, there were about fifty in all. _So, the full Wizengamot then,_ the boy thought. _That's good_. He could see the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore looking unusually somber in the traditional plum-colored Wizengamot robe, a far cry from his typical outlandish style of dress. The headmaster's expression was inscrutable, making Harry wonder how the man was expecting the trial to turn out. He certainly hadn't offered to help Harry, which was suspicious in and of itself, but it also didn't appear that he would be doing anything to support Fudge.

_Probably going to wait until it's all over, then try to claim that he had to pretend to be neutral, and knew I had things under control_, the young Gryffindor thought cynically. _That would be just like him._ Harry wasn't worried about this lack of support, however. He hadn't been planning on any assistance from Dumbledore.

After receiving a copy of the Auror report from his mysterious benefactor, Harry and Peter had spent several days in Timeland preparing. Cattermole's warning that the hearing had been turned into a full trial had necessitated some alterations to the plan, but Harry was still confident that he would be found innocent. His biggest concern this morning had been that he would be tried not by the full Wizengamot, but by a select group of Fudge's cronies, who would find him guilty no matter what he did or said. To his great relief, this did not appear to be the case.

Glancing over to his right, Harry took a moment to observe the new head of the DMLE, Rufus Scrimgeour. The man had refused to meet with Harry prior to this, which led the young Gryffindor to believe that the man was knowingly participating in this farce of justice, something that Harry would not be forgetting any time soon. Three other men were seated on some benches along the wall, though at Harry's level, rather than the seats higher up that were presumably for observers. Witnesses for the prosecution, Harry assumed. Two of those men were obviously Aurors, given the formal scarlet robes that they wore. One was tall, with short, wiry hair and a face that conveyed confidence. The other, a bit shorter, but substantially more intimidating, had a dark, close-cropped goatee and was openly scowling at Harry, who did his best to match the man's gaze before moving on.

The final witness was certainly not an Auror. Not with a belly that large. Though a little shorter than Uncle Vernon, he was probably about as heavy. There was very little hair on the top of his head, but he more than made up for it with the heavy, walrus-like mustache drooping off his face. He was also, to Harry's slight discomfort, staring at the boy intently. Not with an angry expression, as the Auror had done. No, this man seemed to be studying and evaluating the young Gryffindor, though for what purpose, Harry couldn't imagine.

"Seal the doors," Fudge ordered in cold voice, causing Harry to turn and look to the front of the room, where the minister stood scowling at him. "We are here today for the trial of Harry James Potter. Due to a clear conflict of interest, the Chief Warlock will not be participating. Instead, I, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, will be officiating. Bertrand Josephus Higgs will be serving as Court Scribe. Rufus Thorburg Scrimgeour, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be the prosecutor. Mister Potter, who is your advocate?"

Harry forced a pleasant smile on his face as he stood. "I was unaware that I was being formally tried, and certainly not in front of the Wizengamot, so I made no arrangements for an advocate. I suppose that means that I will be representing myself." Mutters filled the room at this announcement, and Harry took the opportunity to glance around the chamber quickly. "I hope that the members of the Wizengamot will be patient with me, as I may not know all the proper terms and technicalities, though I will, of course, do my best." He sat down, still looking unconcerned. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small box which he set on the floor, then tapped the lid twice with his finger to deactivate the integrated shrinking charm. Careful not to let anyone else see what was in the box, he extracted an expensive-looking tablet with a roll of high-quality parchment and a stout quill with a self-inking charm. Preparations complete, he looked up to see Fudge staring at him in shock.

"Mister Potter, what are you doing?" the minister inquired, looking concernedly around the courtroom.

"My apologies, but I was under the impression that I am permitted to take notes on the prosecution's arguments so that I remember to address those issues in my defense. Is that not correct?" he asked innocently. He was pleased to see Fudge share a worried glance with the pink toad next to him.

"What could you possibly have to say in your defense?" Umbridge demanded with a fierce scowl.

"Well, we'll get to that when it's my turn," Harry countered with a broad grin. "But, I believe the prosecution goes first in a trial."

"Very well," Fudge continued after a moment to regain his bearings. "The trial of Harry James Potter will commence. Mister Potter is accused of a grievous violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, of violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and of attempting to control others through the use of the Draught of Talmoxin, an illegal, mind-altering potion. The prosecution will begin."

Scrimgeour stood. "The prosecution's first witness is Auror Johnathan William Dawlish," he announced in a clear voice.

The taller Auror stood and walked up to stand near his boss.

"Auror Dawlish, please explain for the Wizengamot the circumstances which led you to begin investigating Mister Potter's activities."

Dawlish took just a moment to clear his throat. "Approximately three weeks ago, on the 22nd of July, the Auror department received a report from Charlus Bobbin, owner of Bobbin's Brews, an apothecary in Diagon Alley, that one of his employees, Anastasia Nettle, had noticed some suspicious behavior from one of the customers that day. My partner, Auror Gibbon," he said with a gesture to the other Auror on the bench "and I spoke with Miss Nettle the next day. She reported that she had observed a child of about Mister Potter's age with black hair and green eyes acting in a manner as though he were trying to be unnoticed. He purchased a number of potions ingredients, some of which were perfectly ordinary, but some of which were very unusual. Most especially, Galmorrah's Fern, which is very rarely used."

Harry carefully kept his face neutral as he jotted down a few notes to ask the Auror about during the cross-examination.

Scrimgeour frowned. "When you say 'very rarely used', what exactly do you mean?"

"Galmorrah's Fern can be used in a number of potions to remedy various difficulties brought on by old age, such as memory loss and male impotence," the Auror promptly answered, "But given that a child such as Mister Potter would not need them for such a purpose, we can safely discount such uses. The fern is also used in certain illegal potions, particularly those which control the mind."

"Such as the Draught of Talmoxin?" Scrimgeour prompted.

"Yes, that is one of the most notorious of the potions which make use of Galmorrah's Fern," Dawlish replied.

"And what happened next?"

"We made our report," Dawlish recounted with a small scowl. "Given the nature of the purchases, we were instructed to carry out covert surveillance of Mister Potter's residence to see exactly what he was brewing. Given that he is both underage and has not yet completed his potions OWL, it is against Paragraph D of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for him to brew potions at all outside of school, but, as I understand it, the Minister didn't see the need to go after Potter if he was just making something harmless."

Harry rolled his eyes at that. Fudge had no doubt been desperately looking for any excuse to punish Harry for the anti-Ministry comments he had been making the past few weeks.

"When did you first have proof that he wasn't brewing something harmless?" Scrimgeour pressed.

"When he blew up his house," Dawlish said with a scoff. "He returned home, then, about five minutes later, there was a large explosion in what we later determined was his bedroom."

"Did you see this first-hand?"

"No," Dawlish admitted. "We had erected a series of monitoring charms based on Mister Potter's magical signature to track his comings and goings. We hadn't received authorization for anything more substantial than that."

"And these charms alerted you to the explosion?"

"Yes"

"What did you do then?" Scrimgeour asked.

"Auror Gibbon and I traveled to Potter's place of residence with all due haste. When we arrived, the muggle police had already begun investigating. We used minor confundus charms to secure the scene, whereupon we took pictures and gathered evidence, then, per protocol, destroyed anything which might lead back to the wizarding world. After that, we left, and the muggle police resumed their investigation."

"And where was Mister Potter during all of this?"

"I don't know," the Auror admitted. "I believe that he and his family had been taken to a nearby police facility, but I'm not certain of that."

"And can you tell us what you found at the crime scene?" Scrimgeour glanced over at Harry, a malicious gleam in his eye.

"It was obvious that Potter had been brewing something but had made at least one critical error. The cauldron had shattered, there were fragments of it all throughout the room. The potion itself was splashed all along the floor and walls."

"So, it is your conclusion that the explosion was due solely to the potion which Mister Potter had been brewing. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct," Dawlish replied, his face dispassionate.

"No more questions," Scrimgeour said, then glanced up at Fudge.

"Thank you, Auror Dawlish, you may be seated."

At this declaration, many of the members of the Wizengamot began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Excuse me, Minister," Harry called in a loud voice. "If I understand the Wizengamot Charter of Rights correctly, it is now my opportunity to question the Auror regarding his testimony."

Fudge glared at him, but Harry refused to be cowed. "Yes, my mistake," the rotund man replied in a tight voice. "Mister Potter may now ask his questions."

"Thank you, Minister," Harry said with a nod as he stood, then turned to face the Auror.

"Auror Dawlish, I just have a few points that I was hoping you could clarify for me. First, you stated that Miss Nettle described the suspicious customer as being, and I believe this is an exact quote of your words, 'about Mister Potter's age'. Was that exactly what she said? He was about Harry Potter's age?" he asked, his voice doing nothing to conceal just how ridiculous he found that idea.

Dawlish blinked a few times, looking a little foolish. "Of course not," he admitted.

"Then what did she say?" Harry inquired.

"She said that he was a young teenager."

"Ah, I see. And how many young teenagers in magical Britain have black hair and green eyes?" Harry asked with a smile.

"You're the only one that we know of." Dawlish retorted.

"Did you look for any others, or did you just decide that I fit the description and therefore I must be guilty?"

"That's irrelevant. Given that we found the potion in your room, it was obviously you."

Harry shrugged. "We'll get to the potion later. But first I would like to ask about those monitoring charms. Would those charms track anytime a person entered or exited the house, or was it just me?"

"Just you," Dawlish replied, frowning slightly. "You're the only magical who lives in that area, so that was all that was needed."

"Did you check the room for any other traces of magic?" Harry asked.

"No, there was no need. Given that you are underage, if you had been casting spells, we would have detected it."

"And the potion that I was… supposedly brewing," Harry began. "Where was it located?"

"In your bedroom," came the dismissive reply.

"I apologize, apparently my question was not clear. Where in the bedroom was it located? Where was the cauldron containing the potion actually positioned?"

Dawlish blinked. "We… were unable to determine that," he answered, clearly caught of guard by the question.

"Really?" Harry asked slowly, a predatory grin spreading across his face before he forced his expression back to a more neutral one. "Well, I think that's it for now." He glanced up at Fudge, who was still scowling heavily. "I can call this witness back later during my defense, correct?" he asked.

Umbridge looked like she wanted to protest, but said nothing as the minister nodded.

"In that case, I have no further questions at this time," Harry said smoothly as he returned to his seat.

Fudge stared at Harry for a few moments, now looking more nervous than ever, which caused a warm feeling to bubble up inside of the young teen. "Auror Dawlish, you may return to your seat. The prosecution will call its next witness."

Scrimgeour stood up. "The prosecution calls Professor Emeritus Horace Eugene Flaccus Slughorn to testify."

The obese man stood and waddled to the front of the room.

"Professor, when were you first contacted regarding this case?"

"Aurors Dawlish and Gibbon approached me, asking for my assistance in identifying a potion that had clearly gone wrong, causing an explosion. They had a number of samples which they had acquired, which I tested, and determined to be Draught of Talmoxin." The fat man's moustache quivered as he spoke.

"And, can you explain for the Wizengamot what Draught of Talmoxin is?"

"It's a mind-altering potion. The imbiber emits a sort of pheromone causing all in his presence to respect and admire him, even love him."

"And, is this potion legal?" the DMLE head asked.

"Not in public. It can theoretically be used on private property, with the consent of all present, but I must say that I have never heard of such a thing."

"How long do the effects last?"

"Unless a flushing draught is used, three to four weeks," Slughorn replied promptly.

"And what was it that caused this potion to explode?" Scrimgeour asked.

"One of the ingredients in the draught is crushed seeds of the _Ampheria_ plant. Ampheria, however, has a very violent reaction to the lead found in pewter, which is why all potions containing this particular ingredient must be brewed in either a silver or gold cauldron. Whomever brewed the samples that I was given did so in a pewter cauldron, which caused the explosion when the crushed seeds were added."

"Are pewter cauldrons commonly used?"

"No," Slughorn admitted. "Given that the potions brewed in a pewter cauldron will contain small quantities of lead, it is recommended that pewter be used only for training purposes. In most cases, the pewter does not have any impact on the potion itself, so it can be used in schools, but outside of the school setting, or, I suppose, practice with brewing a difficult potion that is not intended for consumption, pewter should not be used."

"You mention the school setting specifically," Scrimgeour said. "Mister Potter attends Hogwarts. So, he would have a pewter cauldron, is that correct?"

Slughorn's expression tightened momentarily. "Yes, I imagine he would," the man finally replied.

"No further questions," Scrimgeour announced.

Harry stood. "Good day, Professor. Just a few questions. Were there any mistakes made in the brewing process prior to adding the crushed seeds?"

Slughorn frowned in thought. "No, as far as I recall, it was brewed correctly," he replied.

"Except for the monumental mistake of using a pewter cauldron instead of a silver or gold one," Harry prompted with a smile.

"Yes, of course, except for that," the former professor agreed.

"How long of a delay would there be after adding the Ampheria seeds before the explosion?"

"Approximately… five seconds," Slughorn answered.

"And is there any indication that an explosion is imminent?" Harry asked.

"If properly brewed, the potion will turn dark green at that stage. If brewed in a pewter cauldron, it would be a lighter shade of green, but the difference is not a tremendously obvious one."

"If the person brewing this potion were to put the crushed Ampheria seeds in and then quickly cast a stasis charm over the cauldron, would that prevent the explosion?"

Slughorn seemed a bit confused by the question, but quickly answered anyway. "Yes, it would delay it until the stasis charm wore off."

Harry smiled, but left that thread hanging for the time being. "Is the Draught of Talmoxin a difficult potion to brew?"

"Very," came the immediate reply.

"How difficult?" Harry asked. "Could you assign it to an approximate level comparable to, say, a Hogwarts education?"

"First year of NEWT studies," the professor answered after a few moments of thought.

"So, sixth year," Harry clarified, eyebrows raised as he paused for a moment to allow this to sink in. "Now, Professor how long did you teach?"

"I taught at Hogwarts for fifty years," the man answered, a touch of nostalgia in his voice.

"And, in that time, I imagine that you saw quite a few explosions from mistakes during brewing," Harry said with a smile. "If your classes were anything like mine, that is."

"Oh, yes," the man chortled, his moustache quivering. "I've seen some very impressive eruptions in my day."

"I'm sure you heard earlier when I asked Auror Dawlish and he stated that they were unable to determine where the cauldron had been located in the room," Harry began. "I'm hoping that with your expertise, we can shed a little light on the subject. I would assume that when a potion explodes, most of the potion, and most of the force of that explosion, goes up out of the opening at the top of the cauldron. Thus, a good way to ascertain the location of the cauldron would be to look for the greatest area of damage or the area with the greatest concentration of potion residue, and assume that the cauldron was directly below that. Is that an accurate statement?"

"Yes, that would be a very good way to find the center of the blast," Slughorn agreed. "Another way would be to look at the splatter from the potion itself. The splatter should be fairly consistent, gradually getting lighter and lighter the further from the cauldron you go. Any empty spots without potion residue must have had something that blocked the splatter, so by lining up the empty spots with the objects, you can determine which direction the explosion came from."

"That was actually going to be my next idea," Harry admitted. "So, thank you for preempting me. And just to verify, is there anything about this particular potion which would invalidate either of those methods of finding the center of the blast?" He glanced at Dawlish, who was sitting on the bench with a scowl.

"No," Slughorn replied, a pleased expression on his face.

"Excellent. Now, just a few more questions. Is it possible to determine when a cauldron was last used?"

"An exact date is impossible, but you can get a rough time range."

"Can you determine what potion was last made in a cauldron?" Harry asked.

"Not if it has been cleaned properly," came the reply.

"And what about a potion? Is it possible to determine when a potion was brewed?" Harry asked intently.

"The results will be even less precise, but again, you can determine a time range."

"Is it easy to do?" Harry asked, then clarified, "I mean, if I were to hand you a potion or a cauldron right now, could you estimate when it had been brewed or last used?"

"Yes, I could," Slughorn replied. "Do you have one…" he trailed off with a questioning look.

Harry thought for a moment. "We'll hold off on that for now," he finally replied. "Thank you, Professor, I have no more questions at this time, though I will be asking you to come up once more during my defense."

"I look forward to it," the man responded jovially.

"The witness may return to his seat," Fudge announced, glaring slightly at both Harry and Slughorn. "We will take a fifteen-minute recess, after which the prosecution will call their next witness."

Soft conversations filled the courtroom as the members of the Wizengamot stood, many of them walking toward the door. Harry took a moment to stretch as though he didn't have a care in the world, then sat back down and waited patiently, taking the opportunity to review his notes and jot down some reminders of points he would emphasize during his defense.

* * *

After the break, Scrimgeour called on the other Auror, Gibbon, to testify, but he had nothing more to add to his partner's earlier testimony. His dislike for Harry, however, was evident.

After Gibbon had been seated, Scrimgeour took the opportunity to address the Wizengamot directly. "Through the evidence collected and the testimony given by the witnesses, it is clear that Harry Potter caused the explosion in question due to his own mistakes in brewing an illegal potion. Regardless of what distractions he is trying to introduce, the facts of the matter are clear. I ask the members of the Wizengamot to not fall for these diversions of a scared boy trying to excuse his misconduct. He broke the law," Scrimgeour said with a stern look at Harry. "And regardless of his fame, it is our duty to see that Harry Potter is appropriately punished." The man paused for a moment before concluding. "The prosecution rests."

As Scrimgeour sat down, whispers filled the courtroom. Harry had to admit that between them, Gibbon and Scrimgeour had done a good job of negating some of the doubts Harry had introduced during his cross-examinations and pointed the blame right back at Harry. But he wasn't concerned. The trial wasn't over yet, and he had plenty of facts proving his innocence. It was just a matter of how to present them for maximum effect.

The whispers ceased as Harry stood, and looked directly at Fudge. "Before I begin, I would like to ask a question. This whole affair could be concluded very simply with just a few drops of veritaserum. Why don't we just do that? I'd be perfectly happy to testify to my innocence under truth serum."

This time, it was Fudge's toad-like toady who responded. "Veritaserum is not permitted for use by an individual who is underage," she said, her deliberately sweet voice doing little to hide the malice behind the words.

"That's odd," Harry responded, though he wasn't really surprised. "During the trial of the Hogwarts students accused of being members of Justice a few months ago, they were all permitted to take veritaserum."

"And sadly, one of them had a reaction to one of the ingredients necessitating a stay at Saint Mungo's," the squat witch replied. "As such, the ministry has determined that it is best to avoid such complications in the future. We can determine the truth without relying on such dangerous substances."

"Yes, I'm sure it's just my welfare that's causing you to deny me veritaserum," Harry responded with mock sincerity. "Well then, if you want to waste all these people's time, then so be it. I would like to begin by asking Auror Gibbon a few more questions."

Said Auror scowled, but made no comment as he walked forward, stopping a few paces away from Harry.

"Now, Auror, in your testimony, and that of your partner, there was no mention of a potions text containing the instructions for the Draught of Talmoxin. Did you find such a text in my room, or is it your claim that I know the recipe by memory?"

"Yes, we found the book you were using," the man replied angrily. "_Moste Potente Potions_. It was sitting on the desk."

"And is there any evidence that it is mine?"

"As I said, it was sitting on your desk," Gibbon answered as though speaking to a particularly slow child.

"Is that the only evidence? There's no notes in my handwriting? Did you make any effort to determine when or where I supposedly purchased the book?"

"No, there was no question of possession. That was and is obvious."

Harry ignored the surly man's scowl, forcing himself to remain pleasant as he continued. "You stated that you and Auror Dawlish took a number of pictures and samples. Are those pictures available today? Could we display them so that the Wizengamot can see for themselves?" Harry paused. "If not, I took some pictures that we could look at, but I think it would be best to use the official evidence taken by the Aurors."

"We have them, but there was no need to bring them today," Gibbon replied obstinately.

"No need to bring the evidence?" Harry's voice was full of innocent confusion. "That seems rather odd." He frowned, as though thinking. "Is the evidence in this building? Perhaps you could go get it while I ask Professor Slughorn a few questions," he finally suggested. "Would that be acceptable, Minister?" Harry asked, looking up at Fudge.

Judging by his expression, Fudge wanted to refuse, but looking around the chamber at the members of the Wizengamot who were now muttering at this development, instead nodded angrily.

"Excellent! In that case, we'll move on to Professor Slughorn for now," Harry said cheerfully. Gibbon began to walk toward the door. "Oh, and Auror Gibbon," Harry added, "would you be so kind as to bring not just the pictures, but also the potions text that I supposedly used?" The man made no reply, but Harry wasn't expecting any. "Thank you," he called before the door shut.

When he turned back, he saw that Horace Slughorn had already made his way to the front, and was now standing almost right next to Harry, beaming brightly.

"Hello again, Professor. I do have a few questions for you, but first, I'd like to explain something to the Wizengamot. Many of you have heard that I have been making a number of claims that a certain dark lord is still around. Those statements are based on an encounter I had during my first year of Hogwarts, which left me severely wounded. Though I lost my memory of the actual event, Chief Warlock Dumbledore explained that You-Know-Who had been possessing one of the teachers, a man named Quirinus Quirrell, who had been responsible for my injuries."

Seeing that Fudge looked like he was about to interrupt, Harry hurriedly continued. "Now, I realize that the ministry does not believe that account. I am not trying to convince anyone here of the truth of those statements. I am simply recounting it to explain my mindset during the summer after my first year. With the knowledge that my parents' murderer was still around, albeit grievously weakened, I thought it wise to prepare in advance. As such, I went to Diagon Alley and purchased a wide range of products that I felt might be beneficial. One of those objects was," he said as he reached down and opened the box at his feet, "a silver cauldron," he finished, holding said object up for all to see.

Harry looked at the cauldron he was holding with a frown, then turned to the professor by his side. "I don't suppose that you could conjure a table or something like that, Professor? I would do it, but I'm already on trial for underage magic as is," he added in a humorous tone.

The heavy man chuckled. "Of course, of course." He produced his wand with a flourish and a large oak table appeared in front of the pair.

Harry set the cauldron down gently in front of Slughorn. "Now, you indicated that it is possible to determine when a cauldron was last used. Could you please do so with this particular cauldron?" he requested.

Slughorn waved his wand, not saying a word, but a soft glow emanated from the inside of the cauldron. He frowned in thought, and cast a few more spells, studying each result carefully before straightening. "I would say somewhere between six and twelve weeks ago," the man said.

Harry let out a silent sigh of relief. In actuality, the professor was wrong. It had really been used just a few days ago, but leaving the cauldron in Timeland for one day in the real world meant that enough time had passed in the vault to fool the spell. Professor Ivankov had tested to ensure that the cauldron would produce the desired result the day before, but it was still a relief that Slughorn apparently used the same spell.

He was careful not to let any sign of his thoughts show on his face. "Indeed. I last used it to brew a potion just before I left Hogwarts, which matches up with your results. In fact, I used it to brew this potion," Harry said, pulling a vial out of his pocket. "Can you confirm that this potion was brewed at about the same time?" he asked.

"Let me have a look at it," the man requested, his voice friendly. Harry handed the vial over, and the retired professor popped the cork out and peered at it closely, before turning back to Harry in shock. "Why, this is…"

"Let's not ruin the surprise just yet, Professor," Harry interrupted with a cheeky grin. "Can you confirm that it was brewed in early June as I said it was?"

Slughorn cast a few spells, nodding each time. "Yes, the results I got are certainly consistent with the potion having been brewed in early June, though to be completely honest, it could have been brewed anytime between three weeks to six months ago."

"Thank you, Professor. And, could you give me your professional opinion on this potion? Was it brewed properly?"

"Oh, it was brewed very well. I would easily give it an Outstanding," the man assured him.

"Thank you. Now, I used the recipe from _Advanced Potion-Making_, by Libatius Borage. I assume that you are familiar with it?"

"Considering I taught my NEWT classes out of that book for decades, I certainly hope so," the man chuckled.

"And how many vials like this would be produced from one batch of the potion?" Harry asked.

"Approximately thirty," Slughorn responded quickly.

Harry paused. "If I recall correctly, I only got about two dozen," he said with a frown. "I wonder if I put too much in each vial?"

"Actually, you had the flame just a little too high," the professor explained. "That boiled off a bit more of the base than would be ideal, resulting in a smaller number of vials, and the potion being just a tad more viscous than it should be. It doesn't have any impact on the efficacy of the potion, which is why I said that you deserved an Outstanding for it, but for a professional brewer, it's important to keep an eye on the details like that, because getting fewer doses out of a potion can cut into the profits very quickly."

"Ah, that makes sense. Thank you for explaining, Professor," Harry replied. Inwardly, he was almost cackling with glee. It was clear that Slughorn was on his side, and many of the Wizengamot seemed to be in agreement, even if they didn't yet understand where he was going with this line of questioning.

"Now, just as a reminder," Harry said, looking up at the Wizengamot, "the whole reason that the Aurors were investigating me is because an individual about my age with black hair and green eyes was seen purchasing some suspicious potions ingredients. Now, I've had this potion all summer long. And I have more than a dozen vials left."

He turned to the man beside him, smiling. "Professor, would you please tell the Wizengamot what this potion is," he requested.

"It's a disguising potion," Slughorn proclaimed with glee. "Actually, a combined potion which would alter both the color of hair and the color of eyes, as well as slightly changing the shape of the nose and ears," the old man clarified.

"So you see," Harry said, turning his attention back to the Wizengamot as a whole, "if I were trying to purchase something without being noticed, Miss Nettle at the apothecary would not have seen a young man with black hair and green eyes. She would have seen someone who looked like," he paused theatrically. "Well, who looked like this," he finished, downing the potion quickly and gesturing to himself.

Harry couldn't help but smile as the members of the Wizengamot began to whisper amongst themselves excitedly. "Dark blonde hair and brown eyes," he stated with a grin, then turned to look at the old Professor. "That is what I look like, right?" he asked the man, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Slughorn laughed broadly. "That's what you look like," he confirmed, taking a moment to study the boy next to him closely. "I knew your parents well. Lily, in fact, was one of my favorites. And I can say for certain that under the effects of that potion, no one would be able to tell who you are. No resemblance at all. Except for the scar, of course," the man added belatedly.

Harry glanced over at the prosecution's side, where both Scrimgeour and Dawlish were fuming.

"I actually go out to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade more than most people would expect, but I don't like the fame and attention that it draws, so I use this potion to ensure that I am not noticed. In fact, I went to Diagon Alley just yesterday to buy a book." Once more, he bent down to retrieve something from his box. "_Fenderthall's Compedium_," he announced as he stood up, dropping the monstrous tome on the conjured table in front of him.

"And the reason that I bought this particular book," he continued, "is that it contains the recipe for the Draught of Talmoxin. Though, I would like to compare the instructions in this book with the ones in the text that the Aurors claim to have found in my room."

"And how did you know to buy that book, or to bring a silver cauldron today?" Dawlish interjected loudly. "It's called guilty knowledge. There's no way that you could have known that you were suspected of brewing that particular potion unless you had actually done so."

"Just out of curiosity, do I have to answer a question posed by a witness?" Harry asked, looking up at the minister.

"It's a valid question, and you will answer it," Fudge ordered, his face alight with victory.

"Okay," Harry responded with a shrug. "First, though, I would like to point out that according to the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, all suspects are to be granted access to the evidence against them no less than seven days before the trial. So, thank you for confirming for everyone that my rights have been severely violated here today."

The Wizengamot clearly agreed, for mutters filled the chamber once more. "Due to the severity of your crimes, it was changed from a hearing to a trial at the last minute," Fudge tried to explain. "And therefore, regrettably, some procedural errors must have occurred. That does not, however, change the fact that you have knowledge that you shouldn't have."

Harry could tell that this justification didn't satisfy several members of the Wizengamot, but decided not to press the issue at this time. "I was going to get into this a little later, but when the explosion occurred, I was standing just outside the room, talking with my cousin. I had been about to enter, and so, the door was open. I was, in fact, holding the door handle with my right hand," he reached out to demonstrate. "In the explosion, a large shard of wood from my chair hit me in the arm." He paused to roll up his sleeve. "Right here," he said, pointing to a gauze bandage on his forearm. "That piece of the chair had some of the potion on it. I took it to a potions master who identified the potion for me. And no, I'm not going to tell you the identity of the potions master. Neither he nor I broke any laws by identifying the potion, thus, it's no business of yours."

The door behind them opened, and Gibbon entered carrying a box, a scowl still fixed firmly on his face. The expression turned to one of shock and confusion when he saw Harry, who was still under the effects of the disguise potion.

"Auror Gibbon, excellent timing," Harry greeted the man. "Do you have the potions text you said was found in my room?"

The Auror dumped the box on the table in front of Slughorn, who opened it helpfully. "Here it is, right on top," the walrus-like man stated with a broad smile.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely to the man, who by now, seemed to have firmly declared himself on Harry's side. "Could you find the recipe for the draught," he requested.

"If I recall correctly, it would be…" the man muttered as he flipped through the pages. "Aha! Right here," he said.

"Now, in _Fenderthall's Compedium_, there was a very prominent warning that the potion should not be brewed in a pewter cauldron, along with a few other warnings. I'm curious if there is a similar warning in _Moste Potente Potions_."

"It's not what I would necessarily call prominent, but it is there," Slughorn replied.

"Could you read that for the Wizengamot?" Harry politely asked the man.

"It's stated in two places," the old professor said. "In the description before the recipe, it concludes with the sentence 'As with all potions containing Ampheria, this draught must be brewed in either a silver or gold cauldron – not a pewter or iron cauldron.'" The professor looked up. "The 'not' in that sentence is underlined." He looked down at the text once more. "Curiously, it makes no mention of copper or brass cauldrons, though that may be because those materials, while still not acceptable, would not produce as violent of a reaction. The other place it is mentioned is in the section detailing the required equipment, where it states that a number three or number four gold or silver cauldron is required."

"Thank you, professor. Now, you said before that the potion had been brewed correctly except for the choice of cauldron. In your professional opinion, is it likely that someone with the skill to brew this potion would overlook such an important part of the instructions? Or, if it really was me that brewed it, and given that I had a silver cauldron easily at hand, that I would have made such a foolish mistake?"

"No, that seems highly unlikely," the man stated emphatically.

Harry resisted the urge to grin as the Wizengamot elders began to whisper animatedly once again.

"Well, thank you for testimony today, Professor," Harry said with a small bow. "I don't believe that I have any more questions for this witness," he declared, looking up at Fudge, who was now sweating profusely.

"Does the prosecution wish to cross-examine?" the minister finally asked.

Scrimgeour stood, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Professor Slughorn, do you really think that looking at one potion is sufficient to judge Mister Potter's skill?"

Slughorn chuckled. "Considering that the disguise potion he brewed is NEWT-level, he's clearly worked far ahead of the rest of his year mates. For anyone to do that and be capable of producing such difficult potions at such a young age, speaks to a keen, analytical mind that carefully scrutinizes the recipes in advance to ensure that they thoroughly understand the steps required. For someone who possesses such a mind to make such a basic mistake is inconceivable."

Scrimgeour pursed his lips in anger. "No further questions," he almost snarled.

"The witness is excused," Fudge stated, now sounding a little depressed.

Harry barely restrained the laugh that welled up inside him when Slughorn didn't return to his seat beside the Aurors, but rather, sat down on a bench on Harry's side of the room. _I have no idea why the prosecution thought this man would be a good witness for their side, but I'm glad they did, _he thought.

"Now I would like to ask Auror Dawlish a few more questions," Harry announced. "But first, I would like a little time to look through these photographs to find those which clearly show a few key parts of the room that I would like to emphasize. Would it be possible for us to take a recess?"

Fudge looked around the room as though seeking some reason to deny the request, but in the end, relented. "We will take a fifteen-minute recess," he announced.

Harry ignored the motion in the stands above him, flipping through the photographs quickly. He was surprised by how many there were, but most of them were close-ups of small splatters on the wall that didn't really help much, especially since he couldn't tell what section of wall was being focused upon. There were a few photos, however, that showed clearly what he wanted to emphasize.

Setting those photos aside, he turned back to the notes that he had taken of Dawlish's testimony. There wasn't much that he needed to address. If he judged the mood of the Wizengamot correctly, he had already won this case. These last questions for Dawlish would just be the proverbial nail in the coffin.

He set his tablet on the table the professor had conjured and looked up where the members of the Wizengamot had already begun to retake their seats, though Fudge and his flunky were nowhere to be seen. At last, the minister stormed into the chamber and took his place at the high table.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered. "The trial will now recommence. Seal the doors," he ordered in a loud voice.

Harry stood. "I would like to ask Auror Dawlish a few questions pertaining to his earlier testimony," he stated, and turned to see that the Auror was already making his way up.

"Auror Dawlish, you testified earlier that you were unable to determine where in my room the cauldron had been located. With these pictures, and the advice that the good professor gave us, I think that if we work together, we can solve this mystery. To start, I would like for us to examine this photograph," Harry said, gesturing to the picture in his hand. "Would you be able to create some sort of stand, and enlarge the photo so that the Wizengamot can see it from where they are?" Harry turned to look at Fudge. "Or is there another way that you use to display evidence?"

A few moments of silence followed before Dawlish finally coughed. "I can do that," he said with obvious reluctance.

"Thank you," Harry responded. Soon, the photograph had been greatly enlarged, so that it now measured at least ten feet across. Harry was amazed at the incredible level of detail. Even at these new, much larger dimensions, it still looked incredibly sharp, without any hint of blurring.

"Now, as Professor Slughorn confirmed, when a potion explodes, most of the force comes out the top, so to find where the cauldron would have been, we merely need to look for an area with a significant level of damage, presumably in a circular shape due to the circular opening on a cauldron," Harry explained, then turned to the photo, which displayed his bed, with a large hole in the mattress, right about where his torso would be if he were lying down.

"Tell me, Auror Dawlish, is there anything in this photo that fits that description?"

Dawlish swallowed nervously. "The mattress has a large, circular hole in it," the man reluctantly admitted.

"And what does that tell you?" Harry pressed.

A long pause followed. "That the potion was underneath the mattress," Dawlish finally replied.

Whispers filled the room, but Harry wasn't finished. "I agree. But let's see if there is any more evidence to support that theory," the teen suggested. He selected another photo from the table. "Can you enlarge this one," he requested.

After Dawlish had done so, Harry turned to the photo, and pointed to one area at the bottom right. "Here we can see the leg of the bed and some of the carpet. And we can clearly see where the potion stained the carpet after being propelled away from the exploding cauldron. But we also can see that there is a very distinct line on the carpet where there is no discoloration. Obviously, the potion was blocked by something. Auror Dawlish, based on this photograph, what do you think it was that prevented the potion from splattering on this section of carpet?"

The Auror glared at Harry, but answered nonetheless. "The leg from the bed prevented the potion from hitting the carpet in that area."

"And does this support our previous theory that the cauldron was under the bed when it exploded?" Harry inquired innocently.

"Yes," the man growled.

"And do you usually brew potions under the bed?"

"No," came the reply. "But, you might have pushed the cauldron under the bed when you realized that you made a mistake," Dawlish said, trying to sound accusing.

Harry frowned. "That is one theory, I suppose. But how would I have known that I had made a mistake? According to your expert witness, the only indication that there is a problem is that the potion turns a slightly different shade of green. If I had never brewed the potion before, I wouldn't have known that there was any reason to be concerned. And if I had brewed the potion before, I would have known not to use a pewter cauldron. And, in any case, the professor informed us that, unless a stasis charm was used, the explosion would have occurred just five seconds after the seeds had been added. I don't think that's enough time to realize something is wrong, push the cauldron under the bed, then dash for the door." Harry thought for a moment. "And how would I have been hit on the top of the forearm like that? If I had been running for the door, any debris from the explosion would have hit me in the back or the underside of the arm. Unless you think that I realized an explosion was imminent, so I shoved the cauldron under the bed, without burning my hands," he added, "then dashed for the door, only to turn once I got there and hold the door partway open. All in five seconds." Harry grinned maliciously at the Auror. "Does that theory sound remotely plausible, Auror Dawlish?" he asked, his voice full of skepticism.

"No," the man responded quietly.

"I asked Professor Slughorn if the explosion could have been delayed by casting a stasis charm, and he confirmed that was possible. Now, I would like to ask you, Auror, is it possible for someone to link a stasis charm to an object, such as a door, so that a certain length of time after the door is opened, the stasis charm is canceled?"

"Yes, that would be possible. But we found no evidence to suggest such a thing," the Auror protested.

"Auror Dawlish, when I asked you, you stated that you didn't look for any evidence of spells," Harry pointed out. "So, while it is true that there is no evidence to support my theory, there is also no evidence to contradict it."

Harry turned to look up at the Wizengamot. "I have no more questions for this witness."

"Does the prosecution wish to cross-examine?" Fudge asked after a long pause.

"No," Scrimgeour replied in a tense voice.

"Then the witness is excused."

Harry glanced down at his notes, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "I have no more witnesses, but I believe that it is customary to make a short statement before concluding my defense. I am convinced, and I imagine that many of you are, as well, that this was an attempt on my life. That an unknown individual entered my room while I was absent and planted a deliberately mis-brewed potion with the intent of causing an explosion that would severely harm or kill me. While I will readily admit that there is very little evidence to support this theory, there is absolutely nothing which contradicts it. I also admit that I don't have all the answers as to how this attack was accomplished. The Aurors made just a token effort to investigate the crime scene, and then deliberately destroyed evidence to hide all traces of magic from the muggle investigators. Perhaps if they had done their job properly, we would have more answers."

Harry took a few steps to the side, then raised his hand, gesturing dramatically. "But as to the reason that we are all here today, there is plenty of evidence to show that I am innocent. Minister Fudge wants you to ignore that evidence. It's clear that he does not, and never did, have any intention of allowing for a fair trial. I showed up this morning without the faintest clue that I would be defending myself in front of you all today." Harry paused, turning his attention to the minister, who was looking around the courtroom fearfully. Beside him, Umbridge was glaring at Harry with undisguised loathing.

"Minister, you made a mistake. You were expecting a scared little boy. But you knew that I had supporters among the good citizens of magical Britain – supporters that would protest if you punished me directly. So, you called in the Wizengamot while doing everything you could to ensure that I would be denied a fair opportunity to defend myself. That way, you could wash your hands of the matter, and claim that any punishment I received was because of the Wizengamot, deflecting blame away from yourself. But now they know the truth. So, the question is, are the good members of the Wizengamot willing to stick their necks out for you? Are they willing to join with you in this blatantly illegal and unjustifiable act?" Harry shrugged. "I guess we'll find out in a few moments."

Harry walked calmly back to the intimidating seat at the center of the room. "The defense rests," he finished, then frowned. "That is what I'm supposed to say, right?" he asked, looking around the room as he sat down.

Quiet conversations filled the chamber. Fudge looked like he wanted to run away, or perhaps vomit. And the pink-clad witch at his side was glaring daggers at Harry, but he just smiled serenely.

"All those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" Fudge finally asked, speaking quickly as though hoping to end this disaster as soon as possible.

To Harry's relief, though not to his surprise, almost every hand in the chamber shot up. He looked around and was gratified to see several of the Wizengamot elders scowling angrily at the minister for his attempt to trick them into supporting him in this farce.

"And those in favor of conviction?" the minister then asked.

Three hands were raised immediately, with two more joining slowly after a few seconds. None of those who had voted in favor of conviction made eye-contact with Harry, but he made sure to burn their faces into his memory.

"Very well, cleared of all charges," Fudge reluctantly announced.

Harry stood. "Honorable members of the Wizengamot, I thank you," he said with a small bow. Straightening once more, he looked directly at Fudge. "Minister," he said coolly, inclining his head just a touch.

His original plan had been to stride calmly out of the chamber, but he changed his mind as he glanced over at the corpulent professor who had defected to his side partway through. From what he had read in his mother's diary, Slughorn maintained an extensive network of contacts in the upper echelons of wizarding society. _That could be very useful_, he thought as he walked over to the grinning man.

* * *

A/N – Longest chapter to date! Hopefully it wasn't too long. I did try to keep it moving, but I also wanted it to be a little more like a real trial than anything we saw in the books.

A few points of clarification: Yes, Harry lied about some things. Asking for veritaserum was a bluff. He knew Fudge wouldn't allow it, but it made the Wizengamot more willing to believe what he said. He had a few different strategies depending on what the prosecution did. Thanks to the time vault, he and Peter had several days to prepare, and Peter is the type that would try to come up with a plan for every contingency, then practice repeatedly. Also, those times where Harry pretended that he wasn't quite sure of the appropriate terminology were part of his plan. It's one thing for him to pull off an impressive defense with advance notice. But he wants the Wizengamot to think that he was able to do so with hardly any warning at all. That makes it a whole lot more extraordinary, and it protects his sources.

And just a note about Dumbledore, since I'm sure some people are wondering about his lack of action in this chapter. I see Dumbledore as the type who would sit back and wait for Harry to fail, then swoop in and save him at the last minute as sort of a 'see, this is why you need me' type of thing. His plan revolves around Harry becoming a martyr, so he doesn't want Harry to learn how to prepare for a difficult situation. We see that in the books. Harry's training for the Tri-Wiz is an absolute joke. In fifth year, none of the adults sit down with him before the hearing to practice responding to questions and projecting confidence, which would have made a huge difference. Undoubtedly, many of the Wizengamot members in canon came away with the idea of 'yes, he's innocent, but he's also a scared little boy that can't be relied upon'. Even in sixth year, when Dumbledore was supposedly preparing Harry to take over the Horcrux hunt, he isn't given the tools that he needs to be successful. When they go to recover the locket, rather than take the time to clarify where they will go and what they will face so that Harry can prepare, Dumbledore instead drags Harry along with hardly a word of explanation. And yes, Dumbledore had a much better idea of what to expect than he pretends. Check out my odds and ends collection for the full analysis.

So here, Dumbledore was hoping that Harry would make a fool of himself, at which point he could take over as Harry's advocate, thus becoming the 'rescuer' in Harry's eyes. He knows that there is no way the Wizengamot will approve any serious punishment for the Boy-Who-Lived for fear of how the public will react. If they do find him guilty, Dumbledore could argue for leniency, but with greater restrictions on Harry's activities outside of school.

Of course, in this story, since Harry has other people willing to help him, Dumbledore's plan backfired big time. Harry made an extremely favorable impression on the Wizengamot, and while Dumbledore can try to claim that it was because of him, not everyone is going to fall for it. And his attempts to justify his inaction to Harry? We'll see that next chapter.

Also, to those of you asking why the blood wards didn't stop the attack: in canon, it's unclear exactly how effective those wards are, and what they would defend against. In fact, they're never called blood wards at all. Dumbledore describes it as a charm at the end of book 5. And, in that same conversation, he states that while Harry lives with his mother's blood, Lord Voldemort cannot touch or harm Harry. I interpret this to mean that the defense will only stop Voldemort (and _possibly_ the marked Death Eaters). Anyone else could walk through like it's not even there. After all, according to the prophecy (which Dumbledore may or may not believe) one must die by the hand of the other. If Harry really is the all-important chosen one, no other defenses are necessary. And if he does die before his time, that's one piece of Voldemort's soul that's no longer a problem, and Dumbledore still has time to move on to the backup chosen one. Ruthlessly pragmatic, but hey, that fits Dumbledore to a T.


	9. Chapter 8: Under Scrutiny

Chapter 8: Under Scrutiny

As Harry had expected, Slughorn was all too pleased to chat with the famous "Boy-Who-Lived", and though Harry was a little uncomfortable with the frequent mentions of all the renowned individuals with whom the retired professor was acquainted, he had to admit that it could only be a good thing to have ties to someone with as vast a personal network as Slughorn. Well, it would be a good thing so long as Harry did nothing to burn the bridge he was building. Fortunately, that didn't seem to be a likely concern, given that Slughorn lapped up all the praise that Harry sent his way.

"Thank you very much for your support today," the teen said with complete sincerity. "It was quite nerve-wracking to be up there in front of all the Wizengamot elders without anyone on my side backing me up. It must have taken real courage to make the change to support me like that with the outcome still in doubt."

"Well, I do, of course, believe that justice ought to be fair, and what happened here was not just at all, but I don't know about the outcome ever being in doubt," the old man protested modestly, "Why, five minutes into the trial, you had the whole Wizengamot eating out of your hand! A truly magnificent performance, m'boy," the man finished with a broad smile.

"Well, I did my best," Harry demurred, "but I would be remiss in not thanking you for your support during my time of need."

"Anytime," the professor assured him. "Though, I do have one question for you, Harry. Uh, may I call you Harry?" the man inquired.

"Of course, please. I prefer 'Harry' over 'Mister Potter' or something like that," Harry responded. "But I'm guessing that wasn't actually the question you intended to ask," he added with a mischievous smirk.

Slughorn let out a loud chuckle. "No, no, you're quite right, that wasn't my question. What I was wondering was how you were so familiar with the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, given that you had not been informed that you were being formally tried here today. I doubt many young men of your age put much time into studying such an… unusual topic."

"A very interesting question that I must confess I was wondering as well."

Both people turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing just a few feet away, gazing at Harry serenely.

Harry fixed the headmaster with a pointed glare. "A few months ago, my godfather, Sirius Black, was found to be innocent of the crimes of which he was accused. And yet, he was thrown back in Azkaban without any legal justification whatsoever, were he died. Naturally, I resolved to learn everything I could about the laws of magical Britain to ensure that such a thing never happened to me. Of course, given that the Wizengamot broke the law that day when they made that decision, I'm not entirely sure how much my knowledge will really be of benefit to me," Harry commented, his tone casual but his demeanor doing little to hide the anger he felt. "And, according to the trial transcript that I was given, it was your suggestion, Dumbledore, that my godfather be unjustly imprisoned."

The headmaster looked down, his face a mixture of regret and grief. "Yes, I will readily admit that I was the one to suggest it. And I deeply regret that decision. However, at the time, I was concerned about several things. I was unaware of who had arranged for the truth to be revealed, or why. Without time to discover the answer to these questions, it was impossible to be sure that the motives for their actions were entirely benign. I had also been contacted at the last minute by an informant claiming that Lucius Malfoy was looking to have Sirius killed. Given that your godfather survived over a decade in Azkaban, I thought it likely that he could last a short time longer until we could ensure his safety outside." Dumbledore paused for a moment, frowning. "My suggestion was that Sirius be held for no more than a week, which I thought would be sufficient. It was never my intention for Sirius to languish in prison indefinitely."

"I find that hard to believe," Harry retorted.

"Regardless, it is the truth," Dumbledore stated.

"And I'm sure that the fact that he could, as my godfather, get rid of that ridiculous apprenticeship you forced on me had no bearing on your decision," Harry said with a sneer.

"Harry, the apprenticeship is for your good," Dumbledore objected.

Harry considered for a brief moment objecting to the familiar use of his given name but rejected the idea quickly. He had, after all, just told Slughorn that he preferred 'Harry'. Thinking of the other man caused Harry to glance in his direction, and he was unsurprised to see that the retired professor appeared quite uncomfortable as he looked back and forth between the headmaster and the student.

"You wanted the freedom to begin investing your family's money, which is a very good thing. Talk with me, and we will look over any potential investments together to ensure that you are not being swindled," Dumbledore continued, his voice sincere. "I objected to you being emancipated at such a young age because I felt that you were not yet ready to be held to the standard of an adult. There is still much that you need to learn about magical society. I can help you with that, if you will let me."

"And yet, you did nothing here today," Harry pointed out, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Given that you did not contact me, I thought that you wanted to handle the hearing yourself," Dumbledore countered, "and I was only informed at the last minute that the hearing had been changed to a full trial. Still, I was prepared to step in if you needed me, but thought that it would be a good opportunity for you. And you did a marvelous job," he added.

With some effort, Harry suppressed a scoff at Dumbledore's patronizing attitude. "No thanks to you," he replied flatly.

Dumbledore frowned briefly, but his face quickly shifted to a more neutral expression. "I understand that you feel that I have overstepped my bounds, and that I have been remiss in my duties. For that, I can only apologize, and try to do better in the future. But now, we need to look to your arrangements for the rest of the summer."

"I thought you wanted me stuck in my Aunt's house," Harry responded, a little confused.

"That was before someone tried to kill you," Dumbledore pointed out in a patient tone. "I think that we can both agree that recent events have changed matters."

Harry frowned. That was a difficult point to counter. And while he could press the issue by asking why Dumbledore had waited until now, rather than immediately after the attack, he wasn't sure that would be a wise decision here. Theoretically, Dumbledore did have the authority, thanks to that apprenticeship, to make decisions like this. Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to see how far Dumbledore would be willing to go to get his way. After all, it could easily be justified as being for his own good.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry finally inquired.

"William, the oldest of Arthur and Molly Weasley's sons, is an accomplished curse breaker," Dumbledore replied. "A few years ago, before leaving for his current post in Egypt, he placed several powerful wards around his family's home, making it far safer than most residences in magical Britain. I contacted Arthur this morning, and he stated that his family would be happy to host you for the rest of the summer."

_The Weasleys, of course, _Harry thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Still, he couldn't really object, especially if there were powerful wards around the home. _I wonder if Dumbledore will find some reason to have me stay with them every summer._ For some reason, that thought both concerned and amused him.

"Very well," Harry conceded. "How will I get there?"

"Arthur works in this building, just a few floors up," the headmaster replied. "I will take you to him, and he can take you back to the Burrow when he returns home for lunch."

"I need to go home first," Harry objected, though his voice was calm. "Both to inform my aunt and cousin of how things went here today, and to gather my possessions." He paused, thinking furiously. "My aunt was also planning on taking me along when she went to buy replacement furniture for my room. If I'm going to be gone for the rest of the summer, she may want to get that taken care of this afternoon. It would be best if Mister Weasley came by to pick me up after work."

True, the furniture thing was a completely fictitious excuse, but, with luck, it would allow Harry a brief window of opportunity to take care of a few outstanding tasks before being sequestered with Dumbledore's most fervent supporters, who would no doubt be watching him like a hawk. For Harry's own good, of course.

"I imagine that would be safe enough," Dumbledore conceded, bowing his head in acknowledgment. "Though I do urge you to be cautious. There are a great many people who would be most upset if something were to happen to you, myself certainly included."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. He wanted to scoff at Dumbledore's supposed concern for his welfare but couldn't think of any good way to do so without sounding like a petulant little boy. So, he changed the topic. "I assume that you will inform Mister Weasley of the change in plans?"

"Yes, I will," Dumbledore replied. "May I tell him that you will be ready at half past five?"

"I'm sure we'll be done by then," Harry responded.

"Then I will inform him of such. Good day, Harry. I hope that you enjoy your time at the Weasleys." Dumbledore turned his attention to the other man. "Horace, always a pleasure," he said with a small nod of his head, then swept out of the room.

"Not the biggest fan of the Headmaster, eh?"

Harry turned to look at the retired professor looking at him somewhat quizzically.

"No, we've had a number of differences over the past few years that I've been back in the wizarding world," Harry admitted, then sighed as he began thinking through everything he wanted to get done this afternoon. "I do apologize, but I need to return home now," the teen said politely. "As you heard, I have a number of tasks to complete and just a few hours to do so."

"Of course. I'm sure we'll be in touch in the future," Slughorn said.

Harry gave a polite smile and turned toward the door before rolling his eyes. Yes, Slughorn was certainly determined to add the Boy-Who-Lived to his little collection.

* * *

Even before he made it home, Harry was already talking with Peter via the communicators, making plans. Handing his aunt a stack of bank notes and asking her to go buy furniture for his room was easy enough, though her half-hearted protests that Harry didn't need to pay for it surprised the teen. Just in case Dumbledore had sent someone to keep an eye on him, he left in the car with her before getting out and finding a deserted alleyway where he could use the portkey unnoticed.

Harry was very grateful when, after explaining to Professor Ivankov that he would be unable to come for the final two days of their agreed term, his tutor suggested they use the time vault to finish off the lessons that he had prepared. The content of those lessons wasn't particularly earth-shattering, but Harry appreciated the gesture nonetheless. The icing on the cake was the professor's parting comment that he looked forward to hearing about what Harry accomplished with this knowledge, and that if Harry were interested in a similar arrangement next summer, he would be very interested in continuing as the teen's tutor.

While Chad was still out of the country, Harry did take the chance to meet with the other members of his team face to face one last time. He regretted now not taking the opportunity to connect with them more regularly, but they were all very understanding of the situation. In some ways, he imagined that they would prefer working with Peter, who was an adult like them, rather than a teen like himself. But if they had such thoughts, they thankfully did not voice them.

* * *

After a quick stop at a craft store for supplies that Harry intended to use on some ideas for enchanting projects that he had thought of, he and Peter proceeded to a tall office building in downtown London for the final errand of the afternoon.

"So, what's his name again?" Harry asked as they entered the tastefully decorated lobby.

"Ferdinand Falkenson, though he goes by Dan," Peter answered.

"I'm surprised he could meet us on such short notice," the Gryffindor commented.

"Well, I had booked an appointment for Monday, but he was quite understanding when I called earlier to change it. To be honest, I think that he has a pretty good idea of what we're here for. Malcom mentioned that he had spoken with Falkenson about it briefly, not going into any particulars, of course, because of the secrecy contract, but he did warn me that the man is very good at reading between the lines."

Checking the registry, they entered one of the lifts and selected the eleventh floor. As they ascended, the primarily glass walls of the lift gave an excellent view of the opulence shown throughout the building, which Harry had to admit was extremely impressive. He'd never actually been to his uncle's office, but he imagined that Vernon would be turning green with envy at the wealth and sophistication on display here.

"What exactly does Falkenson do?" Harry inquired.

"He's a business consultant. Has his own firm working with companies to streamline their corporate processes in order to cut down on overhead and increase efficiency."

"I'm surprised it pays this well," Harry admitted.

"From what I understand, he works almost exclusively with large corporations that make millions every year. If he can increase productivity by just one percent, that's more than enough to justify paying him tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of pounds."

The shock Harry was feeling must have been evident on his face, because Peter chuckled. "Yes, there is a great deal of money to be made in the world of business." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Though I will admit, I'm a bit surprised that he's been so successful without being able to explain much about his background. I'm not even sure if he ever went to uni."

Harry frowned. He could think of one way that a pureblood could convince muggles to pay a great deal of money without the necessary skills, though he hoped that Falkenson wasn't bewitching his clients. That wasn't something that Harry was prepared to ignore.

At last the lift stopped, and the two wizards exited to find themselves on a balcony that overlooked a large sitting area with a fountain several floors below. Following the signs on the wall, they entered a hallway several yards away. Before too long they were standing outside of Suite 1108.

An attractive blonde secretary was seated behind a fancy mahogany desk. "Mister Wilson?" she inquired.

"Yes," Peter responded with a smile.

"Mister Falkenson is ready for you in the conference room. Please follow me," she instructed.

The conference room was just around the corner, but as they walked, Harry took the opportunity to glance at the pictures on the walls, many of them showing a dark-haired man in a fancy suit smiling while shaking hands with a series of much older men, though there were other photos of landscapes and famous buildings that Harry thought he recognized, but couldn't put names to.

As he had expected, the dark-haired man turned out to be Falkenson, who thanked his secretary and offered them seats on one side of the ornate table, then took a seat on the other side.

"I routinely check to ensure that there is no form of monitoring in my office, be it muggle or magical. So, let's get right to the point," Falkenson said as he sat down. "Why exactly are two wizards so anxious to meet with me?" he asked, leaning forward, his expression shifting to one of severe interest bordering on suspicion.

"We want you to help us fix the wizarding world," Harry replied bluntly.

Falkenson sat back, studying the young man carefully. "Harry Potter, right?" The teen nodded, and the man continued. "What problems do you believe that the wizarding world faces, and how do you intend to fix them?"

"I feel the most pressing issue is the corruption in the ministry and the Wizengamot, and I intend to fix that by exposing that corruption. We have identified a few targets that we have proof have committed severe crimes with little, if any, punishment. Including, but not limited to Lucius Malfoy, the minister's top adviser."

The business consultant looked intrigued. "How severe?" he asked.

"He took actions as part of a political move that could have easily resulted in the deaths of dozens of children at Hogwarts. We dealt with the problem, so only one child was affected by that particular ploy, and he recovered, but the potential was still there. Add in that we are convinced that Malfoy was behind the attacks this spring, and I think that the expression 'heads will roll' is an apt metaphor for the reaction when his crimes are brought to light," Peter stated.

Falkenson's eyes widened, but he didn't ask for any more details. "Malcolm's a good chap, and whatever it is you're working on has him more excited than I've ever seen before. Clearly, he believes that you'll be successful," Falkenson mused, "so what do you want me for?"

"We want your help," Harry said simply. "You're an intelligent man who is obviously very successful, and you have built a business around showing other people how to be successful. We would like to hire you to help us."

"My normal fee is ten percent of the increase in my clients' profits during the year I work with them. That wouldn't really apply here," the dark-haired man replied. "And to be honest, if we were to just settle on my average fee, it would likely be beyond what you would want to pay. But I'm not going to deny that I am interested in what you've said."

"It's obviously not about the money, then," Peter interjected. "So, what is it that you want from us?"

"You said that you intend to fix the wizarding world. Do you know why I left?" the man asked.

Harry frowned at the non-sequitur. "From what Malcolm said, it sounds like you felt you had better opportunities here."

"Exactly," Falkenson said flatly. "Neither I, nor any of my siblings or cousins got to go to Hogwarts. We all went to Lonscaster. The teachers there made it clear that we would be stuck in menial jobs for the rest of our lives because nobody was interested in promoting someone who went to that school, no matter how smart or dedicated we were."

"And you want to change that." Harry's words were more of a statement than a question.

"I do. I have some thoughts regarding how, but I would be willing to listen to your ideas as well."

Harry glanced at Peter and nodded.

"I think we can agree with that, in principle," Peter said.

"Then I will agree, in principle, to work with you," Falkenson replied. "Malcolm mentioned a secrecy contract. I'll sign it, and we can discuss specifics at that point, though I do have pre-existing commitments with my current clients that I will need to work around."

"We can do that," Peter assured the man.

Harry looked at his watch. "I don't have much time left. Dumbledore keeps a close watch on me, and I'm supposed to be meeting one of his more loyal followers shortly. So, I'll need to leave, but Peter can work out all the details in my absence."

* * *

Harry packed quickly to ensure that he was ready on time, and he was just barely shutting the lid when half past five arrived. He carried his trunk down the stairs, setting it near the door and took a seat on the couch, reading a new fantasy book he had purchased a few weeks ago. Minutes passed, but unfortunately, Mister Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

Though he ignored Uncle Vernon's mutters about wizards who couldn't even be bothered to show up on time (though he made it clear that he obviously didn't include a good lad like Harry in that blanket statement) Harry was curious as to the cause of the delay.

The mystery was solved half an hour later, when Harry heard noise behind the fake coal fire in the living room. He couldn't resist the urge to sigh as he realized the problem.

"He tried to come by Floo," Harry explained to his relatives.

"By what?" Vernon inquired.

"Floo. It's a way of traveling through fireplaces," Harry explained.

"But, our fireplace is…" Petunia trailed off, looking over at where the fireplace had been blocked off.

"Yeah, that's the problem," Harry said dryly before walking over and squatting down behind the fake fire. "Mister Weasley?" he asked in a loud voice, though not shouting at the top of his lungs. Best if the neighbors didn't hear, after all. People were already watching the Dursleys with more suspicion than usual after the explosion.

"Harry?" came the reply. "Are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. The fireplace has been blocked off. You won't be able to get out this way."

There was a moment's pause. "What did they block up the fireplace for?" Mister Weasley's voice sounded almost outraged.

"They've got an electric fire," the teen replied.

The outrage quickly switched to delight. "Really? Eclectic, you say? With a plug?"

Harry rolled his eyes, grateful that the older wizard couldn't see. "Yes, with a plug. So you won't be able to get out this way," he repeated.

"Well, then, nothing for it," the trapped wizard said with a sigh. "Stand back, Harry," he commanded.

Suppressing a groan as he realized what Mister Weasley intended, Harry took a few steps back. _This isn't going to go over well._

* * *

"Hey, Harry! Good to see you!" Ron called joyfully as Harry and Mister Weasley finally arrived.

"Hey, Ron," Harry replied, making no effort to sound as excited as the red-haired boy. While he didn't necessarily dislike Ron, the two of them certainly weren't as good of friends as the Weasley boy seemed to think.

"You'll be bunking with me, just like last year," Ron said, oblivious to the black-haired boy's annoyance.

_Oh, joy_, Harry thought sarcastically, though he didn't allow it to show on his face.

He followed the tall redhead up the winding stairs, listening absentmindedly as his fellow Gryffindor prattled on about all the things that had happened over the summer. In truth, it could be summarized in two words: not much. Mostly, Ron recounted thrilling tales of playing Quidditch with his brothers or going swimming in the pond out back.

Harry was surprised, however, when he learned that the Weasleys had won fifty galleons from the Daily Prophet. It wasn't much, but it had been enough for Ron and Ginny to both purchase new wands. Ron was also allowed to buy a new pet, since Scabbers had, in his words, "disappeared" last year. Harry was unsure if this meant that the Weasley parents were completely unaware of the truth of the supposed rat, or if they knew but had elected not to inform their children.

* * *

Harry had expected that the Weasleys would be keeping a close watch on him. However, he had underestimated just how dedicated they would be to their assigned task. Outside of time on the toilet, he doubted he had been alone for more than a minute at any time since arriving at the Burrow a few days ago. Molly Weasley was almost always close at hand, and she was quick to assign Harry and Ron a number of tasks to accomplish each day. Even when they finished, she would 'suggest' that they engage in some sort of activity together, which generally meant chess or, on occasion, playing some Quidditch with Fred and George.

Harry was still exchanging letters with Hermione and Neville at times, and, of course, Molly insisted on inspecting each letter he received to ensure that it hadn't been tampered with. It was infuriating, but it wasn't worth fighting over. The letters were, after all, perfectly innocent. Any communication he wanted to keep a secret would be done by means of the technomancy communicators Chad had made.

After just a few days, Harry was about ready to scream. Fortunately, he only had to put up with it for a few weeks, and he'd be back at Hogwarts. Hopefully, things would be better there.

Though, given the events of the past two years, he had to admit that he wasn't overly optimistic.


	10. Chapter 9: Escapes and Plans

Chapter 9: Escapes and Plans

Fortunately for Harry's sanity, Ron's tendency to sleep in late into the morning worked well in his favor. He couldn't leave the room without Molly assigning a minder to keep an eye on him, but so long as he stayed quiet, she never realized that he was awake, which gave he and Peter the opportunity to talk each morning. Most of the time, it was a short conversation in which Peter informed him that there had been no new developments. Several days after he arrived at the Burrow, however, he got a welcome surprise.

"Dan had an idea to get you away from there for a week or so," Peter told him. "It'll cost a fair amount, but you'll also be able to go to America and see that specialist Healer Caron recommended. It's funny, we were so focused on finding a way to get you over there without Dumbledore realizing that we missed the obvious option."

"What's the idea?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"I can tell you if you want, but it may be better if you don't know in advance so that the Weasleys and Dumbledore don't realize it was a set-up. But it's your choice," Peter advised.

Harry glanced over at Ron's sleeping form. Hogwarts was approaching, but there were still two weeks to go. Two long weeks of boredom, drudgery and constant monitoring.

"Do whatever you have to do, just get me out of here," he instructed.

"Send a letter to the Dursleys," Peter replied. "I'll handle the rest."

* * *

As usual, Molly insisted on inspecting the reply letter he received before he had a chance to read it. Still curious as to what sort of plan his allies had devised, Harry watched her expression carefully. Whatever was in the letter, she obviously didn't approve, if the deepening frown was any indication.

"I just need to consult with the headmaster for a moment," she said.

"Fine, while you're doing that, I'll read my letter," Harry replied, holding his hand out.

"Not right now, I need to talk with the headmaster first," she countered, clutching the letter tightly.

"No, you need to give me my letter," Harry retorted. "Your claim that you're inspecting my mail to ensure that there aren't any spells or jinxes is one thing, but there's clearly no danger here. Now you're just trying to prevent me from reading my mail."

The Weasley children were completely silent, watching the dispute with wide eyes.

Mrs. Weasley glared at him, her face reddening in anger.

"I wonder how people would react if I told everyone that Molly Weasley was trying to stop me reading mail from my muggle relatives," Harry mused. "Might raise some questions."

"Dumbledore said that we needed to keep you from harmful influences," the Weasley matriarch almost shrieked.

"Harmful influences?" Harry replied, genuinely confused. "The very same people he insists that I live with? How does that make sense?"

While Mrs. Weasley struggled to find a way to reply, Harry took the opportunity to dart forward and snatch the letter from her hand. He backed away quickly, and was surprised to see Molly's hand moving toward her wand.

"Draw your wand and I will shout this story to anyone who will listen," Harry snarled, his eyes blazing furiously.

Her hand froze.

Harry walked to the opposite side of the table and lifted the letter so that he could read it while keeping an eye on the angry woman. Scanning the page quickly, he was surprised to see that the handwriting was Dudley's.

_Harry! Great news! Mum won a contest, and we got an all-expenses-paid trip to America for a week! We leave on Saturday, so Mum wants you to come back Friday so we have plenty of time to prepare._

The rest of the letter was in his aunt's handwriting, confirming that it wasn't a joke and that they would all be going shopping Friday for some appropriate clothing, as the weather in Florida was much warmer than what they were all used to.

_That's… actually a pretty clever idea, _Harry thought approvingly, though he was a little surprised that such a trip was possible on such short notice. Didn't it take a while to get passports? He shrugged off the thought. Peter and the others probably figured out a way to speed things up with magic.

"My family won a trip to America. I'll be there for a week," he announced to the group.

"You can't leave," Mrs. Weasley protested.

"I'm not going to skip a family vacation to stay here," Harry replied firmly. "Quite frankly, it doesn't matter what you think. The choice is mine, and my relatives. They clearly want me to come, and I want to go, so that's all that matters."

Molly fumed. "We'll discuss it with Dumbledore."

* * *

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore had no objection, leaving Molly without a leg to stand on, which obviously displeased the plump woman. The Weasley children were walking on eggshells for the rest of the day, though Harry wasn't concerned what Molly thought.

Tempers had more or less cooled by the time that Mister Weasley returned home from work, though there was still some tension between Harry and the Weasley matriarch.

Ever the diplomat, it fell to Arthur to try to explain his wife's actions.

"It's not that she was trying to stop you reading your mail, she just needed to ensure that there wasn't a threat," the red-haired man said.

"Clearly it was safe to read, because she had already done so," Harry replied dryly.

"Not a threat with reading, but she felt it was best to ensure that the trip was real. It could have been a trap to lure you back to your relatives'," Arthur explained.

"A decision that was not hers to make," Harry retorted, struggling to keep his temper under control. "It's not like I was rushing out to go back to the Dursleys that very minute. It would have made no difference if I had read the letter and then she pointed out that it would be best to double check just to be sure. That would have been fine. What she did was unacceptable."

Arthur frowned as he struggled to come up with a counterargument. "We're just trying to keep you safe," he finally said.

"Maybe _you_ are," Harry conceded. "But she's trying to keep me controlled. There is a very large difference."

"Dumbledore asked us to ensure that you were kept safe from any harmful influences," Arthur replied, his voice a little quieter now. "Molly was just following those instructions."

"While I am grateful that you were willing to take me in, even with the threat on my life, the fact is my life is my own," Harry declared firmly. "I will remind you that I did not ask to come here. In fact, I would have preferred to stay at the Dursleys. In that case, I was willing to go along with what Dumbledore said. But I do have limits. I will make my own decisions. If you, or your wife, or Dumbledore wish to advise me, that is fine. But the final choice is mine. If your wife cannot accept that, I will leave. With or without the headmaster's approval."

* * *

The next few days passed quickly. Though Molly was clearly still in a bad mood from the whole situation, she limited herself to disapproving looks in Harry's direction. The fact that he clearly didn't care what she thought just made her temper even worse. Fortunately, she managed to restrain herself from making any comments, and Harry did his best to stay out of her way. It was a tense, uneasy peace, but it worked.

Friday morning, Arthur dropped Harry off at the Leaky Cauldron, where the Dursleys were all waiting. Shopping was a rather quick affair, followed by lunch at a nice restaurant. Their plans for the afternoon were a bit more varied. Harry would be meeting with his team at their new office in the outskirts of London, while the Dursleys passed the time at the movie theater, after which they would pick Harry up to return home. Hopefully, if Dumbledore had anybody watching, they wouldn't notice that Harry hadn't spent the full time with his relatives.

"I have to say, all this 'cloak and dagger' business is more exciting than I imagined," Uncle Vernon chuckled. "It's like being in Her Majesty's Secret Service."

"Well, thank you for going along with it," Harry said.

"We're glad to help," Aunt Petunia assured him. "You're our nephew."

"And we're getting a free vacation out of it," Dudley, who had been informed of the truth behind the trip just that morning, added enthusiastically. "All my friends were jealous when I told them I was going to Florida for a week."

"Well, thank you all the same," Harry said as he stepped out of the car.

The office Peter had leased for the team was a one-story, red brick building with dark-tinted windows. The sign on the door read 'Magical Solutions', which made Harry scoff a little at how unsubtle they were being.

A bell rang as he entered, and Peter emerged from a door down the hall.

"Harry, welcome to the office," the man called in greeting. "What do you think?"

"It's nice," Harry replied with a shrug. "Though I don't really know much about office buildings."

"Well, we all like it," Connor said as he emerged from another doorway. "Bit out of the way, but that's not a problem for magicals. And since Michelle can side-along me, I don't mind much either."

"Well, if you all like it, that's what counts," Harry stated.

"Conference room is this way," Peter said, gesturing a little further down.

* * *

Harry did his best to resist the urge to smile as he sat back in the comfortable leather chair. This was the first time that he had seen the team fully assembled. It was nice to see that, despite the obstacles that had come up, progress was being made.

Though Peter had offered to allow him to run the meeting, Harry preferred to let the older man handle things, and he would just observe. As the last few people took their places around the large, wooden table, Peter stood and cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for coming. We're going to have each person update us on what they have accomplished recently. And for Harry's benefit, please include any significant items that you may have told the group before. We'll start with Chad. What do you have to report?" Peter said as he looked over at the lone American.

"First off, I would like to say thank you to everyone who was patient with my absence due to my Grandmother's funeral, and I apologize for any inconvenience that may have caused," the brown-haired man said. "Now, for my report. I spoke with Xeno Lovegood, and he has agreed that we can use his printing press for our newspaper for a small fee. I would like to get a press of our own eventually, but there are some hoops to jump through. We can't just go buy a regular printer and enchant it; we might have to build one from scratch like Xeno did."

"That seems complicated," Harry interjected. "Could we really do that?"

Chad nodded. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Making the parts is fairly easy with magic thanks to shaping spells, or, in some cases, anchored transfiguration."

"Why do we need a magical printer at all?" Michelle wondered. "From what I've seen, non-magical printers seem to be a bit higher quality, and then we could design the newspaper on a computer."

"That would work," Chad replied, "except that we wouldn't have the moving pictures. If we don't care about those, we could use a regular printer."

"Wizarding photos would be good to prove that it is, in fact, a wizarding newspaper," Malcom opined. "If you want this newspaper to be accepted by magical Britain as a whole, and not just those of us on the fringes, showing clearly that it is a magical newspaper would be important."

"Combine both. Print the text on a non-magical printer, then print the photos on top of that in a magical one," Dan Falkenson suggested.

"That… is an excellent idea," Chad said, sitting a little straighter. Harry could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he nodded slowly, a smile growing on his face. "Yes, that should work. It will take a bit of effort to ensure that it all lines up properly, but that would give us the best of both worlds." He gave Dan a cheesy grin, pointing his fingers like guns in his direction. "And our business consultant proves his worth right off the bat."

A few of the people around the table chuckled, but Dan just rolled his eyes.

"There's also the question of what we want our newspaper to focus on," Chad continued. "I know that ultimately we want to use it to expose corruption in the ministry and so forth, but we need to build up a reader base. I don't think that we should start with attacks on the ministry until we have enough subscribers to put up a fuss if they try to shut us down."

"What about attacking Dumbledore?" Connor suggested. "He and the ministry aren't getting along right now, as far as I know."

"Dumbledore has a lot of supporters," Peter replied, looking a little skeptical.

"An indirect attack might work," Malcom said thoughtfully. "Hogwarts, for example. If we were to run a series of articles pointing out the problems with the schools, that would draw people's interest. And given that Hogwarts pretty much controls the education system in magical Britain…" his voice trailed off, but his point was clear.

"That's one approach," Peter replied. "Are there any other problems the Wizarding World is facing that we could focus on?"

"Economy's been in a bit of a slump for the past two years," Dan suggested. "Probably due to a number of restrictive policies Fudge has instituted."

"What about including significant events happening outside of Britain?" Michelle asked. "The Daily Prophet focuses almost exclusively on things happening in our country. Maybe a broader view would attract some readers."

Peter nodded. "Both good ideas. Perhaps we could have different sections of the paper, like most modern papers in the muggle world. Local news, international news, business news, etc."

"Sports news, especially Quidditch," Malcolm added. "It wouldn't be difficult to go more in depth than the Prophet. We could interview players and coaches, maybe even include detailed reports and pictures of the games themselves. I'm sure the teams wouldn't mind, it's free publicity for them."

Chad nodded thoughtfully as he wrote the suggestions down.

"Any other ideas?" Peter asked, looking around the table. Nobody spoke up.

"Next up is Mac," Peter stated, looking over at the grizzled old Hitwizard who had remained silent during the previous discussion.

"As you all know, I'm putting together a private army masquerading as an elite bodyguard service," the large man said. "I've spoken with a few contacts and managed to get a half-dozen people who would be interested in joining up. As a licensed hitwizard, I can employ up to eight assistants on an as-needed basis entirely at my own discretion without the ministry needing to know. When I go beyond eight, though, I'm supposed to inform the Aurors."

"Is there any way we could get around that?" Chad inquired. "I mean, if we got another hitwizard on board, could they have their eight and you have your eight and so on?"

Mac frowned. "I don't think the ministry would see it that way. But it depends on how much we want them to know."

"We want to stay as close to legal as we can," Peter stated. "Informing the ministry shouldn't be a problem, as long as we don't do anything to make them suspect us."

"If we act like we have nothing to hide, nobody's going to look to closely," Michelle added.

"It might even be to our benefit," Mac said consideringly. "The Quidditch World Cup is going to be held in Britain next summer. They've already started work on the stadium. We could offer our company's services at a reduced rate. That would give us a little more access to the ministry while also getting our name out there."

"Does the bodyguard company have a name?" Connor asked.

"Best suggestion I've heard so far is DragonFire," Mac responded.

Harry nodded. "I think it sounds good," he said.

"Well, if the boss likes it…" Chad's voice, though soft, was easily heard.

"Anyone object to the name DragonFire?" Peter asked. No one responded. "Then let's go with that. Mac, anything else?" The old man shook his head. "Then we'll go on to Michelle."

"I've been researching the histories of Dumbledore and Tom Riddle. It's interesting, and once the newspaper is well-established, we should include some of the things that I've found, but for now, there's nothing you all need to know," the woman replied.

"Thank you, Michelle. And now, Connor."

"I've finished warding this building. If any of you would like me to ward your homes, just let me know," Connor replied, then took a deep breath. "And I had a bit of an unusual idea. One of the biggest problems magical society had during the Blood War was that the properties are all so spread out, each with their own defenses. For example, even though Hogsmeade is all magical, each building has its own wards. During the war, there were a few defenses applied to the whole village, such as Caterwauling Charms activating after nightfall, but not much besides that."

"And what's your suggestion?" Malcom asked thoughtfully.

"A new community with everything it needs to be independent with wards covering the whole area. That way, if someone tried to attack, they would have to get through those wards first, which should slow them down considerably."

There was a pause as everyone looked around the room, waiting for someone to say something. "That's… ambitious," Chad finally replied.

"But a good idea," Mac countered. "It would prevent the 'hit-and-run' style attacks the Death Eaters used."

"Can you make wards that big?" Peter asked. "I thought there were practical limits to the size that could be covered by a single array."

"Yes and no," Connor replied. "It would take a slightly different style than the common ward schemes used today, but it's certainly not impossible. The Hogwarts wards, for example, are massive."

"How would we control who comes and goes?" Harry asked. "That's the main weakness for any ward, right? Ensuring that only trustworthy people are allowed inside."

"Harry's got a point. If it's basically a village, people are going to want to be able to invite their friends from outside," Michelle agreed.

"If the actual ward boundary was restricted, people could have guests over and any infiltrators would be unable to damage the outer ward. Sure, they could still cause problems inside, but their numbers would be more limited. It's not like the common Trojan Horse tactic that the DE's used to bring down a house's wards and then attack," Mac pointed out.

"This isn't going to be something that we can implement any time soon, so let's move on for now," Peter decided. "Connor, keep developing the idea and when you have a plan that we could execute, we'll talk about it then."

The Scotsman nodded.

"Malcom, anything that you would like to say?" Peter inquired.

The red-haired man shook his head. "Not much. Everyone should be getting paid. If there are problems, let me know. Besides that, we've got plenty of money to keep us going for years, though, obviously, once we start hiring more people, that will use up the money faster. Still, with what we've discussed here today, there's no concern."

Peter nodded. "And Dan, you mentioned that you had an idea."

"Have any of you heard of the term 'fiscal retribution'?" the dark-haired man asked. Everyone shook their heads.

"It's a very old term," he continued. "Originally, magical society was very divided. Each magical house had their own rules, their own traditions. In many ways, the different families were like separate countries. The Wizengamot tried to bring these different houses in under one common system of law, but it soon became clear that there was a problem. Members of a house who committed crimes against another house could be punished, but there was no good way to punish a house as a whole. To use a real example from history, suppose that Houses Longbottom and Greengrass both grow potions ingredients. A member of House Greengrass, wanting to improve his family's fortunes, tries to burn down one of the Longbottom farms. If that individual were captured, he would be punished. But, what punishment should House Greengrass as a whole suffer? Clearly, we can't imprison them all, the vast majority had nothing to do with it. And yet, House Longbottom demands justice."

Dan paused, gathering his thoughts. "Conflicts like this led to honor feuds and almost outright warfare between the various factions. When violent crimes were committed with the clear intention of benefiting the perpetrator's whole house, under the laws of the Wizengamot, the victims often struggled to see justice done. And so, to prevent the whole system from collapsing into chaos, the Wizengamot implemented a judicial code called fiscal or financial retribution. In short, there are monetary punishments that can be levied against an entire house if one of their members commits certain crimes against another house."

Dan took a quick drink before continuing. "These laws were commonly used during medieval times when the Wizengamot was still struggling to assert authority after the fall of Camelot, but they have been all but forgotten now. They are, however, still official laws."

"Now, most of the punishments are laughably inadequate by our standards because of inflation over the years since the penalties were last updated. For example, the fiscal retribution for attacking the head of another house is only 150 galleons. But, there are a few punishments that are not defined by a set amount, but are relative to the crime committed. Specifically, destruction or theft of House assets. In the case of theft, the house who stole the assets must not only return them, but must also pay an amount equal to the value of the assets to the victim."

Harry was confused, but it was clear that Peter understood what Dan was leading toward. "So, when House Malfoy stole the Black inheritance from House Potter…" he trailed off.

"Actually, in this case, I think Harry would have been considered a member of House Black, given that he was Sirius Black's godson, which is, by magical standards, much like an adoption. But yes, Lucius Malfoy opened himself up to a fiscal retribution."

"How much are we talking?" Michelle asked.

"Obviously, we don't know exact numbers, but most estimates put the Black fortune at somewhere around six to eight million galleons. The Malfoys have more, but it's unlikely that they'll have enough liquid assets to pay the fine. In which case, Harry would be able to confiscate assets, and this," Dan said with a bloodthirsty grin, "is where Malfoy would be in real trouble."

Everyone was waiting on the edges of their seats for the man to explain. "Malfoy is heavily invested in rental properties. In fact, he is almost certainly the largest single owner of rental homes. Due to the way that taxation laws in magical Britain work, it is more economical for most people to rent than to buy. The legal value of a rental property is ten times the annual rent. The actual sale price, however, is usually about five to seven times that. As such, if someone were to buy a home to live in it, the property tax they would pay is often as much or more than the amount to just rent the property, not even considering the exorbitant cost of purchasing it in the first place. That's why more than 95% of the people in magical Britain rent as opposed to buying a home."

Dan raised a finger to emphasize the point. "Since Malfoy is so heavily invested in rental properties, if he's not able to pay the full amount due, Harry can confiscate the homes for their _legal_ value. And because there is such a large difference between the legal value and the actual sale value, depending on the exact figures, it would likely take House Malfoy decades if not centuries of saving every galleon to get back to their current level of wealth."

"Why would Malfoy have done that if it was such a risk?" Michelle asked.

"He obviously thought that he could get away with it. And, to be honest, it will be an uphill battle. We'll have to convince the Wizengamot that the fiscal retribution laws apply here, and he'll do everything he can to oppose us. But if we're already planning on exposing his crimes, then we have a good chance of getting the Wizengamot to support the retribution."

"Which means not only would Lucius be going to jail, but Draco wouldn't have enough money to cause problems," Harry mused.

"Like I said, it might be difficult, but if we prove that Lucius deliberately stole the inheritance as opposed to simply being the logical heir, we should be able to get the Wizengamot to agree with us that the fiscal retribution laws apply."

Harry leaned forward. "About that. There's another plan that I came up with that we haven't told you about yet. We're still developing it, and I'd like your opinion, but it sounds like it could be adapted very easily to get Malfoy to publicly admit that he stole the inheritance and that those laws apply."

Dan was obviously intrigued.

"In fact," Harry continued, "I think you would be perfect for the main role."

"Tell me more," the man replied.

* * *

Harry lay awake that night, thinking. If their plan worked, the Malfoys would be all but destroyed. It would be difficult, but if they were successful, revenge would be sweet and satisfying.


	11. Chapter 10: A Productive Trip

Chapter 10: A Productive Trip

Neither Harry nor Dudley had ever been on an airplane before, so the trip to America was both exciting and a bit concerning. The ride was smooth for the most part, but every once in a while the plane would shake, causing both boys to grip the handles of their seats in momentary panic. Harry couldn't help but compare flying muggle-style to flying on a broom. He definitely preferred the magical method. There was something concerning about not being in control. There were no major problems, however, and after several hours, the plane landed in sunny Miami.

It was late by the time they made it through customs, so they went straight to their beachfront hotel, then up to their rooms, where they collapsed on the beds. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had one room, of course, while Harry and Dudley were sharing a room just across the hall.

Harry was grateful that the time change worked in their favor, as it meant that he had four more hours to sleep. Still, morning came all too early, and soon he and Vernon, who would be accompanying him to Baton Rouge, took a taxi to the airport and boarded their flight.

Thankfully, this one was quite a bit shorter, though there was a stop in Atlanta for about an hour. Finally arriving at their destination, they climbed into a taxi, then climbed back out thirty minutes later in front of a small, old-looking shop with all sorts of strange objects displayed in the window.

"Right," Vernon said, trying (and failing) to hide his discomfort. Harry knew that even with the Unctuous Unction, his uncle still had a deep-seated dislike and even fear of magic. "I'll let you do your thing. I'm going to get some lunch, then I'll catch a movie. There's a mall just down the road. I'll meet you there at five at the first-floor south entrance," he instructed his nephew before disappearing quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to look at the shop once more, then walked inside.

The interior was dimly lit, with shelves piled high with charms, talismans, amulets and other trinkets, along with a vast collection of plant and animal parts that would not have looked out of place in an apothecary back in Diagon Alley. Along one wall he could see animals, mostly small birds and reptiles, although one glass cage held a gigantic iguana. A few customers were browsing the shelves, but there was no one behind the counter off to the side.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked in a thick Jamaican accent. Startled, Harry turned to see that he was being observed by an absolutely massive black man wearing black robes covered with strange yellow symbols.

"Are you Healer Williams?" Harry asked, trying not to allow the intimidation he felt to show.

"My name is Bembe," the man replied as he studied the boy carefully. "You have an appointment with Williams? Go into de back," the man pointed to a doorway blocked by hanging cords with brightly colored beads. "He be dere soon."

Thanking the man, Harry quickly followed the instructions.

A few minutes later, the large man reappeared.

"My apologies about the deception," he said, his voice now sounding like a typical American as he began rummaging through the cupboards off to one side. "I'm Brian Williams. And to be precise, I'm not actually a healer, per se, more of a specialist that deals with unusual magical issues."

Mister Williams turned back, and Harry was surprised to see an unusual, delicate pair of glasses perched on his large nose. "I'll need to do some tests, cast a few spells, that sort of thing. Feel free to talk or ask questions if you like. It won't bother me," he said as he waved his wand a few times.

"So, why the accent?" the boy asked curiously.

Williams frowned. "Because my studies into various forms of magic don't actually pay all that much. Cases like yours are quite rare, after all. It's more of a hobby. An extremely useful and interesting hobby, but still just a hobby. I make most of my money from the store, and the customers at the store want the real 'Voodoo experience'," he said, the sarcasm at the end clear as day.

"Including a fake accent?" Harry realized.

"Exactly," the man replied, still peering at Harry closely through his strange glasses. "If I tell them that I am Brian Williams, recipient of an advanced degree in Comparative Magical Systems from Miskatonic, they assume that my only knowledge is theoretical, completely ignoring the fact that I lived in other magical societies learning their ways for more than two decades. But, when I claim my name is Bembe, dress like this," he said, gesturing to his robe, "and use an over-the-top accent, they think that I hold some hidden mystical secret that normal wand wavers could never understand."

The conversation dwindled as Williams continued his examination. Harry spent most of his time looking around, wondering about the purpose of the various odd implements visible in the room. Finally, the specialist finished.

"Interesting. Very interesting, Mister Potter," the man said as he placed the glasses on the counter.

"Good interesting? Bad interesting?" Harry inquired.

"To be honest, it's a little bit concerning," Williams admitted. "Not so much because of your health, but because of the implications."

"Implications?"

The large man shifted in his chair. "Let me explain first. The scar on your forehead has some corruption in it, as Isobel said. This actually isn't all that unusual. In fact, I'm a little surprised that Isobel admitted she had never heard of it before. The goblins of Britain use cursed weapons that can cause similarly contaminated wounds, though the fact that your people haven't been at war with theirs lately might explain why people seem to have forgotten that."

Now Harry was confused. "I was attacked by goblins?"

"No, my apologies, that was an unnecessary tangent. The corruption comes when a foreign magic interacts with the innate magic of the body. A deeper form of magic than just a spell, though some types of dark magic can have long-term effects similar to this. But I won't get into all the possible causes now. The contamination in your scar is due to a small sliver of a soul that has somehow been connected to yours for some time, likely since the night you got that scar," the healer explained, his face grave.

"A soul?" Harry was horrified.

"Yes. The 'implications' that I was concerned about are that pieces of a soul don't just happen by accident. There are numerous ways that people have tried to cheat death over the centuries. Fear of what comes after this life is the most constant aspect of human society throughout the world, so, naturally, magical practitioners have tried to find ways to extend their lives, leading to many unspeakable practices."

"There have been two primary methods that individuals have used to stave off their own mortality. The first, and by far the most common, is to make themselves immune from harm. That, combined with proper rejuvenation rituals to preserve their youth, can be quite effective. But, as you can see from the fact that we don't have millions of ancient wizards roaming around, such methods are never perfectly effective. There's always some sort of weakness, some hidden vulnerability that comes back to haunt them at the most inopportune moment."

"The second method involves anchoring the soul onto this mortal plane so that when the person is killed, their soul doesn't move on. Instead, it lingers as a sort of wraith. As I said, this is a less common method, but it can be more pervasive. There are many ways to accomplish this. The phylacteries of ancient Egypt are the most well-known example, but there are plenty of others. Practitioners on the Malay peninsula developed one method, as did both the Hopi and the Aztec. Mages in Aragon – modern day Spain," he clarified, "had a method where a person could mark a vessel shortly before their death, usually a young child, and their soul would possess the victim when the old body died."

"But I suspect that what we are dealing with here is what is called a horcrux. It's a method of splitting the soul and binding the fragment to an object to both provide protection from death, and to prevent some of the more common problems presented by traditional phylacteries. And given your history, it seems logical to assume that this soul shard came from the one called Voldemort."

"He's still around. Some sort of spirit that can possess people," Harry confirmed.

"Yes, knowing that, and given the presence of this sliver of a soul, I would suspect that he made a horcrux. So long as it exists, he cannot be truly killed."

"But you can get rid of this soul fragment in my scar, right?" Harry asked, now a little worried.

The healer looked closely at Harry. "Oh, yes. I believe so. Please do not be alarmed by our previous topic. This is a new case, even for me, but I believe that a common, but powerful cleansing ritual should take care of it. And once I remove the soul shard, there should be no lingering issues. However, there is one little wrinkle that makes this whole affair more complicated. You are being closely monitored with some form of blood tracking which reports not only your location, but also your health. It's similar, in many respects, to the sympathetic magic used in Voodoo, but still quite different. It's very subtle, but it's there."

"Dumbledore," Harry growled.

Healer Williams made no response to Harry's accusation. "The ritual that I will use to cleanse your scar will purge all lingering magical effects from your body. This will also disable the tracker. If it is being monitored, whoever placed the spell will know."

"Is there anyway to prevent that?" Harry asked, trying to stave off the rising anger at the interfering old goat.

"I could transfer the tracking spell to another object, along with suitable charms to spoof the health monitoring parts of the enchantment," the healer offered. "But you would need to keep the object close to you. If it was ever more than, say, fifty or sixty feet away, the spell would fail and whoever was monitoring it would be alerted."

Harry shrugged. "I can live with that. Better than Dumbledore finding out what I'm up to or leaving that soul fragment in place."

Williams frowned. "I just thought of one other issue. Once the corruption in the wound has been cleared, it should heal like normal. Anyone who saw the scar would realize something was different."

Harry groaned. "So, people are going to know regardless of what I do?"

"The best answer I can offer there is to create some sort of prosthetic scar that looks close enough to fool people. It's not a perfect solution; anyone who examines you closely would realize it was a fake, but it's the best idea I have," the healer replied.

"Alright, let's do it," Harry said. "I'll deal with any complications later, for now, I just want to get this soul thing out of my head."

"I'll take pictures of the scar that you can use in making a prosthetic," Williams said. "I don't know of anybody here that you could hire to do that, but I imagine that your assistant back in England would be able to find someone."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Is there anything I need to do?"

"Sit in the chair and just try to relax. I'm going to put you in a low-level trance. You'll still be vaguely aware of what is happening around you, but it will be hard to focus on. The more you panic and fight it, the more difficult my job will be. It'll take a little under an hour to transfer the tracker then do the cleansing ritual, so find a position that you're comfortable in, then close your eyes."

Harry did as instructed. Soon, the noises of the healer walking about and chanting softly grew faint and distorted, like trying to concentrate on one voice in a crowd. Lights and colors flashed before his eyes, even though they were still closed.

Images swum through his vision, hazy and indistinct. There were still sounds, but now they made no sense. At one point, he thought he saw the entrance hall in Timeland, but it looked different for some reason. Before he had time to observe it closely, the vision disappeared, and he found himself floating in a sea of grey mist. The sound of rushing wind filled his head, growing louder and louder. Soon, it was a deafening roar, and Harry could hear more than just the wind. There were voices there, but they were too muddled for him to understand. Unconsciously, he shut his eyes to try to hide from the noise.

The noise stopped immediately, and he opened his eyes to see that he was standing in a large desert, nothing but sand for as far as he could see. A strange sensation around his feet caused him to look down, and he saw to his horror that he was being sucked into the ground. He struggled, but there was no escape. As his head sank under the sand, he found himself falling, and then, he was once more standing in Timeland.

He could hear a soft wailing coming from one of the rooms. Almost without thought, he found himself approaching the door, moving slowly as though drawn by an invisible force, no matter how he tried to resist. He opened the door and was startled to see a small, foul humanoid creature with rough, diseased looking skin curled up in one corner. He recoiled in shock, and the monster turned to look at him. Just as they made eye contact, it gave a sharp, agonized squeal, then disappeared.

Harry jolted up in his seat, heart racing as though he had just run a marathon. Looking around, he saw that he was once more in the back of Brian Williams' shop, with the man himself gazing at Harry intently.

"That should have taken care of the soul shard," the man said. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Harry replied, lifting a hand to his forehead. "And really, really tired."

"The ritual drained you of your magical energy. You'll recover in a few days, a week at most, but until then it will feel that it takes more effort just to move. Magicals channel their magic through their bodies without even realizing it, so when the magic is gone, they feel weaker. I'm going to give you something similar to a Pepper-up Potion to keep you up for now. When you go to sleep, the magic will wear off, and you'll probably want to spend the rest of your trip here just sitting in the hotel watching television. That's perfectly natural, and nothing to be concerned about."

"Was there any significance to the visions that I saw?" Harry wondered.

Williams just shrugged. "I have no idea. The precise effect that a magical trance like that one will have on the mind is very hard to predict, and that's not including the fact that a piece of another soul was involved as well. Some people believe that what they see has great meaning, while others think it nothing more than a confusing mish-mash of whatever they've been thinking and feeling lately."

He handed Harry a vial of thick, yellow potion. "That's the potion I told you about."

Harry swallowed the viscous concoction, grimacing briefly at the bitter taste. Despite the unpleasant flavor, he was pleased to note that it worked. He now felt awake and refreshed.

"Feeling better?" the specialist asked.

Harry nodded. "Loads."

"Good. Now go out front and find something simple like a ring or bracelet that you wouldn't mind wearing at all times for me to attach the monitoring charm to," Williams instructed.

Harry took a few moments evaluating his options before finally selecting a necklace with a metal charm on it that looked like some sort of seven-pointed star.

"Devil's trap. Useful," Williams remarked as he took the charm, but made no further comment. Instead, the man cast a few spells, then handed the necklace back to Harry. "The spell is on the charm itself, so you can take it off the necklace if you want. Just make sure to keep it close. The tracking spell is based on your blood, so in order to keep the link going, it needs to be near you at all times. I'm not sure of the exact range, but if it gets too far away, the spell will be broken."

"You said fifty or sixty feet before. Is that the limit?" Harry asked.

"That's a conservative estimate. I wouldn't be surprised if it could hold up even from a distance of hundred feet or more. But there's no way to know without pushing it to its limit and seeing where the connection finally snaps. And that would defeat the whole purpose. The closer, the better."

"Alright," Harry replied with a nod. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Williams shook his head. "Just remember that you'll be very tired tomorrow. Besides that, you're good to go."

"Thank you. I understand Peter already took care of payment, right?" Harry asked. The man nodded. "Then I'll get out of your hair. Thank you again."

"My pleasure. It's always good to put my education to real use," the specialist said with a smile. "Feel free to contact me again if you ever need my expertise."

Their flight back to Miami was uneventful, and soon Harry found himself back in the hotel room, lying awake thinking while listening to Dudley's snores.

The idea that he had carried a piece of his parents' murderer around with him for so long was disturbing, but at least it was in the past.

* * *

When he woke the next morning, Harry discovered that Williams had been entirely correct. He was exhausted. Every little motion took more energy than he would have thought possible, and, as the man had predicted, he found himself just sitting on the bed watching tv. Fortunately, the hotel had a truly ridiculous number of channels available, some of them with content that Aunt Petunia would never have approved of, though Harry didn't watch those. Well, not for too long, anyway.

"So, if you had to go to this guy because of your health, why do you have to be so sneaky about it?" Dudley asked one night as they sat in the hotel room late at night, eating pizza while watching _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.

Harry thought for a moment of how to explain it. Dudley wasn't a stupid as Harry had always thought when they were younger, but he certainly wasn't the type to quickly grasp new concepts.

"Dumbledore has a lot of power and influence in the magical world," Harry began. "But he has to be careful about using it too much. It's like money," he realized. "He has enough money that he can do lots of things, but he still wants to save it as much as he can for when he really needs it. So, while he probably could arrange for me to be carefully watched and monitored all day every day, he's not going to do that unless he thinks he needs to. As long as he thinks that I'm obeying him, or at least, that I'm not really working against him, he doesn't feel the need to use his 'money' to control me."

"But doesn't he know that you came to America? I though you didn't want him to know that," Dudley asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

"He doesn't know that I'm the one who arranged it, or that I wanted to see the specialist in Louisiana," Harry clarified. "If he knew about that, he would figure out that I'm not under his control like he wants, and he would take more drastic measures to control me. But as long as I don't tell him, he won't figure it out. He thinks that Aunt Petunia won the trip from a travel agency, and if he asks me about it, I'll tell him about the good food, the beaches, and the girls in bikinis, just like a regular teenage boy."

It seemed this topic was still a bit too advanced for his cousin. Fortunately, the commercial break ended, and Dudley was soon distracted by Indiana Jones fighting Nazis.

* * *

On the last day, Hary was feeling a bit better, and summoned up the will to go out to the beach for a while. After all, Miami was famous for sun, sand and scantily clad girls, all of which the Gryffindor wanted to see. Still, all good things come to an end, and soon Harry and the Durselys were back on the plane, flying to England.

It was during this long flight that Harry finally thought more about what Brian Williams had said, and the pieces began to come together. _So a horcrux is an object with a part of a person's soul, which can be used to restore them to life, either through creating a new body or possessing an existing one._

The more he thought about it, the more he was reminded of the events of his last school year.

_Does that mean Riddle's diary was the horcrux?_


	12. Chapter 11: Back to Hogwarts

Chapter 11: Back to Hogwarts

Harry had arranged to meet Arthur Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron on Sunday morning so that he could be taken back to the Burrow. For his own safety, of course. And, not surprisingly, as the time drew near, Harry found himself more and more frustrated with his current situation.

Dudley's question kept coming back to him. _Why am I spending so much effort trying to hide things from Dumbledore?_ Realistically speaking, what could the headmaster do to force Harry to obey him? Not much. Of course, the irritating old control freak could do a number of things to inconvenience Harry, but that would just give the young man more proof that he could use to justify the apprenticeship being dissolved.

In order to appeal the forced apprenticeship, he would need to take the matter to the Wizengamot, something which had seemed a daunting prospect when he first considered it a year ago. Now, however, he was not nearly as concerned. After all, his performance at the trial had no doubt impressed many of the members, and they had seen for themselves that Dumbledore hadn't helped him there.

Deep down, Harry knew that the real reason he felt so conflicted was that the last time he had made decisions based on emotions rather than logic and strategic planning he had attacked the Slytherins responsible for assaulting the muggleborn students, setting in motion a chain of events that had resulted in the death of his godfather. He still felt guilty when he thought about that too deeply.

But, was that sort of event likely to happen again? Sirius Black had been in an extremely vulnerable position, hated and feared by the elders of the Wizengamot, and by society as a whole. In their eyes, Dumbledore's suggestion of holding Black for further investigation had probably seemed very wise, no matter the fact that it was blatantly illegal. Would the headmaster be able to convince them of something similar with Harry? That he needed to be controlled for his own good?

Peter hadn't been much help in that regard. "There's pros and cons either way," the man had replied when Harry raised the subject with him. "You just have to make the choice of which course of action you prefer. If you do take a more open stance in defiance of Dumbledore, I'm sure we can make it work."

In the end, Harry had (somewhat reluctantly) decided it wouldn't be worth it to have another enemy working against him, not when the Ministry was already targeting him and the Daily Prophet was continuing to defame him in almost every edition.

_Still_, he thought as he stepped out of his uncle's car and walked toward the magical tavern, _I'm done with letting Dumbledore have his way. I'll try not to act openly if possible, but if not, I'm not going to let him do what he wants unchallenged._

As he walked into the old building, Harry forced his hand to stay at his side, resisting the urge to check that the fake scar Peter and Chad had made was still in place. He'd tested it extensively and as far as he could tell the scar was firmly attached to his forehead and would remain there until the appropriate spells were used to remove it. It certainly wouldn't stand up to a close inspection, but it should be enough for now.

He forced a smile onto his face as he saw Arthur waiting at one of the tables. _Just a few more days_, Harry reminded himself. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving on Wednesday, which meant that he just had to put up with the Weasley brood for a little longer.

* * *

Unfortunately for Harry, his resolve to stay under the radar ran into a major obstacle the very next day.

"Hogwarts letters have finally come," Molly announced to her children (and Harry) at breakfast. "We'll go to the alley this afternoon to get your shopping done."

"Little later than usual, isn't it?" Fred asked in between massive bites of pancake.

Harry frowned. That was a good point.

"Apparently, Dumbledore had a difficult time finding a new teacher for Defense," Arthur replied. "But I'm sure whoever he has found will do a fine job."

"Wait, what about Lupin?" George protested. "He's the best we've had so far."

Privately, Harry wondered if it had something to do with the man's lycanthropy, but since that was presumably still a secret, he made no comment.

Neither Weasley parent had an answer to that question. Instead, Molly handed the letters to each of the children. Harry was pleased to note that while the letters to the Weasleys had been opened, his was still sealed. Apparently, the Weasley matriarch had learned her lesson after their last altercation.

His good mood ended as soon as he opened the letter and got a look at his book list.

"Excuse me, but can I use your floo?" he politely requested, looking over at Arthur. "I need to contact Professor McGonagall. I think there's been a mistake here."

Ignoring the questioning looks from the others in the room, the man nodded. "Of course," he said, motioning to the other room.

"Have you ever used the floo not to travel, but just to do a floo-call?" the redheaded man asked as they approached the fireplace.

"No. Actually, I wasn't even aware you could do that," Harry admitted.

"Obviously, Hogwarts has defenses to prevent someone from just flooing in. You can put just your head into the fire to communicate with the person on the other side, but you can't actually enter Hogwarts. Without practice, that can be a little difficult and uncomfortable, so why don't I just invite the professor here so you can talk?" Arthur suggested.

"That would be wonderful," Harry replied gratefully.

Half an hour later, Harry and McGonagall were seated across from each other, glaring.

_Don't rant or rave. Stay calm and present your arguments logically_, Harry kept reminding himself. Unfortunately, while simple in theory, it was actually quite difficult to put into practice, especially when speaking with a woman whom he already disliked and who was refusing to even consider what he was saying. "Professor, you yourself stated on more than one occasion last year that the choices of which electives we take would have a serious impact on what careers were available to us later in life. That is why, after careful consideration, I selected Arithmancy and Runes. So why am I being required to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures instead?"

"Mister Potter, Arithmancy and Runes are both very difficult classes that require a great deal of focus and diligence. Given your half-hearted approach to your schoolwork in the past, both Professor Dumbledore and I agree that it would be best for you to take the other classes," the stern woman responded, her tone making it clear that the matter was, as far as she was concerned, not up for discussion.

"Professor, my 'half-hearted approach' as you call it, is due to the fact that I do not want to waste my time on assignments that I do not think will help me to develop the skills that I will need in the future," Harry countered. "I make sure to put in the effort needed to get a passing grade in all my classes, even ones such as Astronomy and Herbology that I think are, quite frankly, pointless."

McGonagall scowled. "It is not up to you to determine what constitutes the Hogwarts curriculum."

"I did not say that it was," Harry replied tersely. "I pointed out that even in classes that I do not like or value, I am still willing to do the minimum to pass the class. Given that I do see a great deal of value in learning Arithmancy and Runes, and, in fact, have already started learning those subjects, there is no reason to assume that I would not be able to keep up with the other students."

"I understand that you think that, Potter, but so do many students who then find themselves over their heads. As your head of house, it is my duty to ensure that you do not attempt more than you are able to accomplish."

Harry scoffed. "And here I thought a good educator was supposed to encourage their students to excel. I guess that shows how lousy of a professor you really are." He resisted the urge to smirk as he saw her jaw clench in anger at that remark.

"Professor Dumbledore made the final decision, as is his right given your apprenticeship. He had hoped that you would show a degree of maturity, especially given the flexibility he was willing to show you with regards to your recent trip to America. Unfortunately, I will have to report to him that he was mistaken. You are not acting with maturity; you are complaining like a little boy who is being told he cannot have a second helping of dessert."

Harry jumped to his feet. "I am choosing to stand up for myself and insist that I be permitted to take more difficult classes that will help me later in life. That is a far cry from a whiny little boy throwing a temper tantrum," he snarled furiously.

"Mister Potter, the decision has been made," the teacher said, her nostrils flaring. "And that is the end of this discussion." She stood and strode over to the fireplace, not looking back as she tossed the powder into the floo and disappeared in a flash of green fire.

* * *

Given the volume of the argument, especially toward the end, it wasn't surprising that the Weasleys had all heard about it. Of course, they all reacted in different ways.

Ron thought Harry was mental for wanting to take more difficult classes. "Besides, Harry, this way we'll be in classes together," the boy had added.

Harry chose not to mention that, if anything, he considered this yet another reason why he wanted out.

Ginny was a bit more supportive. At least, that's what Harry thought she was trying to convey, but the stuttering and blushing made it a bit difficult to interpret, so he was still a bit confused when the girl finally fled.

The twins made no comment, but Percy was giving Harry death glares, likely due to his audacity to argue with a teacher. Arthur had already left for work, and Molly kept her thoughts to herself. At least, she did at first.

"Harry, dear, where are your books?" she asked as they all waited in line at Flourish and Blotts that afternoon.

"I already bought everything I needed earlier in the summer so that I could get a jump start on studying," Harry replied casually.

"What about the books for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures?" she pressed.

Harry met her gaze levelly. "What about them?" he asked unconcernedly.

Molly's face contorted into a glare. "This sort of behavior is unacceptable. Professor McGonagall made it clear that you are taking those classes," she scolded, making no effort to keep her voice down. "Runes and Arithmancy would be too difficult. You need to accept that adults know what is best for you."

"I'm not going to waste my money on books that I'm not going to use," Harry countered.

"We'll see about that," the Weasley mother vowed, her expression darkening even further.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was irritated to see that the news of his 'academic struggles' had made the paper. The whole affair had been greatly embellished, of course, painting Harry as a poor student who, due to a combination of laziness and limited mental capacity, was struggling at school. What made it even worse was that the paper questioned why the son of an accomplished pureblood wizard like James Potter was struggling so much, implying (though, of course, not outright stating) that it was the fault of his muggleborn mother.

"Thank you for announcing my private business to the whole wizarding world," Harry growled as he tossed the paper in front of Molly.

She flushed, but made no effort to apologize. "That wouldn't have happened if you had simply bought the books like you were supposed to."

The rest of the Weasleys at the table glanced around awkwardly.

"If you had concerns about that, you should have brought them up privately, not shouted them for everyone to hear," Harry retorted.

Not surprisingly, neither side backed down, until Arthur cut in, pointing out that what was done was done, and they weren't accomplishing anything by fighting.

* * *

The mood in the Burrow was tense the next morning as everyone was hurriedly packing, loading their trunks into the car that Mister Weasley had enchanted. Harry, of course, had his possessions mostly organized already, so he was done quickly, but, as usual, the rest of the Weasleys were lagging behind. Eventually, the other children were ready to go, and they all piled into the car.

It was almost a relief when they finally arrived at King's Cross Station. Molly was clearly still angry at him (a sentiment which Harry whole-heartedly reciprocated) and had spent most of the trip glaring out the front window, punctuated occasionally by ordering one of her unruly children to be silent. Arthur, as usual, was just ignoring the whole affair, not wanting to get pulled into the argument.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay with you," Harry said perfunctorily to Arthur before passing through the portal to Platform 9 3/4, though he made no effort to put any real emotion in his voice.

The older man smiled tightly. "Well, you're always welcome," he replied, trying to keep his tone casual, but Harry could see the nervous glance he shot at his wife.

Not waiting for the angry woman to say anything, Harry quickly boarded the train. To his relief, he found Neville waiting in a compartment just a few cars down. He entered and sat down with a sigh.

"Tough day?" Neville asked, amusement clear on his face.

"I've been stuck with the Weasleys," Harry responded flatly. "And Molly Weasley has apparently decided that she has the right to control everything about my life." The boy scowled. "Every one of your letters? She insisted on inspecting it first to ensure there wasn't anything 'objectionable'."

Neville chuckled. "I'm sure that's frustrating, but, truth be told, I'm not sure it would have been any better if you had stayed with me. My gran can be pretty overbearing at times as well."

At that statement, Harry felt a sudden swell of empathy for his friend. He'd only been at the Weasleys for a total of about two weeks, with a nice vacation in the middle. Neville was stuck with his grandmother for the whole summer, and, given the comments that he'd heard the boy make, likely hadn't had many opportunities to get away for some time on his own.

The door opened. Rather than seeing Hermione as he had expected, Harry was a bit disappointed to see Ron entering the compartment. Still, he didn't have grounds to refuse, given that the compartment still had empty seats. Unless the redheaded boy did something objectionable, Harry decided it would be best to just ignore him.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked as he looked back over at his friend.

"She had to run to the loo," Neville responded, just as the door opened again and the girl in question appeared.

"Harry!" Hermione almost shrieked. "Are you okay? I saw it in the paper. I couldn't believe it. That must be so horrible to be subjected to such an undeserved attack."

"I didn't think they had much in the Prophet about it," Harry commented, a little confused.

"What are you talking about? It was on the front page yesterday!"

Far from clearing things up, Hermione's response just made Harry even more confused.

"What? No, it wasn't."

Hermione stared at him. "Did you read the Prophet yesterday?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied slowly.

"And did you see the article where they called into question your mental competence?" Hermione continued.

"Yes," Harry said once more. Finally, the pieces fell into place, and he understood what his friend was talking about. "Wait, that's the attack you were referring to? Not the attack on my life, but the insults in the paper?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to be confused. "What attack on your life?"

_Did I really not tell her?_ Harry tried to think back to the letters that he had written to her that summer. Normally, he just responded to whatever she wrote. If she hadn't heard about it, then she wouldn't have mentioned it, and he likely wouldn't have brought it up, either.

"Oh, uh, oops?" he said with a sheepish smile. "I thought you knew," he tried to explain before recounting his near brush with death.

By the end, Hermione was wide-eyed and white-faced, raging indignantly about corrupt government officials and the absolute mockery of a justice system that magical Britain had.

"And you!" she added, pointing at Harry, her eyes blazing angrily. "The next time you almost die, I want to hear about it right away!"

"I think it might be better to hope that he doesn't have any more near-death experiences," Neville suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Ron interjected. "It's Harry. Of course he's going to have more near-death experiences."

While he wanted to groan, something told Harry that Ron was right in this case. As if Voldemort wasn't bad enough, now someone else wanted him dead. And they weren't going to stop at just one failed attempt.

* * *

The train finally arrived, and the students disembarked. Fighting through the mass of bodies, Harry and his friends made their way to the carriages, doing their best to shield themselves from the cold rain. The weather had only gotten worse by the time they finally arrived at the castle, and Harry could only imagine how bad it would be for the little firsties crossing the lake in the open boats.

Still, the castle was nice and warm, to the relief of the students, and the promise of a good meal raised everyone's spirits.

As the small group entered the Great Hall, it was Ron who noticed the newcomer who would undoubtedly be the latest nuisance in Harry's life.

"Do you think that woman is the new DADA teacher?" the boy wondered.

"What woman?" Harry asked, looking up at the teachers' table. He didn't need to wait for a reply, for he quickly found the answer to the question on his own. Dolores Umbridge was glaring malevolently at him from her seat next to Professor Vector.

Harry groaned as he brought his hand to his forehead.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

* * *

A/N – Just a quick explanation about Molly Weasley. I'm not trying to bash her here. I'm trying to be faithful to the character in canon, both the good and the bad. She is a caring woman who loves her children deeply and wants what is best for them. She is also willing to accept Harry and treat him almost as one of her own. In canon, that was a good thing, for the most part. Unfortunately, that's not the case here. Harry is too independent, and Molly is (as shown in canon) quite overbearing. She is convinced that children need to listen to the adults (even grown children like Bill and Charlie), so when Harry refuses to cooperate with Dumbledore's instructions, she feels completely justified in taking him to task for his behavior.

This does not mean that she is brewing love potions to trap Harry in a marriage with Ginny or giggling while making plans about how she'll spend his money when he dies and the Weasleys inherit due to a false will. She's a good person who has some mistaken notions about proper parenting and the exact nature of her responsibility for Harry.


	13. Chapter 12: New Subjects

Chapter 12: New Subjects

After a good night's sleep, Harry was feeling a bit more optimistic about life at Hogwarts. True, it would be very irritating to have another teacher who hated him, but after two years of putting up with Snape, Harry had plenty of practice dealing with unreasonably irate teachers. So long as he didn't do anything to draw her attention, Umbridge shouldn't be too bad.

Of course, the malicious DADA teacher wasn't the only thing causing him frustration, a fact of which he was unpleasantly reminded during breakfast the next morning when class schedules were distributed. "Great, Divination first thing," Harry groaned. "What do you have first?" he asked, turning to look at Neville and Hermione.

"Arithmancy," Neville replied, looking a little anxious. Harry wasn't surprised by his friend's unease. Neville had originally wanted to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, not out of any real interest, but because he wasn't sure he had the skill or intelligence for the more difficult classes. Harry had encouraged him to switch to Arithmancy and Runes, which was a bit ironic given the current situation.

"Well, make sure you take good notes. I'll need you to teach it to me," Harry said lightly.

Neville looked a little shocked and concerned by this, but he nodded resolutely.

"What about you, Hermione?" Harry inquired.

"What about me?" the girl replied, somewhat evasively.

Harry and Neville shared a confused look. "What class do you have first?" Neville asked.

"And which classes are you taking?" Harry added. "I can't remember if you ever told us what you settled on."

For some reason, Hermione's hand twitched before she deliberately returned it to her side. "Just classes," she replied. "We should get going," the girl continued without pause. "Wouldn't want to be late on our first day."

Neither boy commented on the obvious change of topic, though Harry shared another look with Neville at their friend's odd behavior. The trio gathered their things and left the Great Hall, chatting briefly before splitting to go their separate ways.

"Harry, wait up," Hermione called as she darted forward to walk next to him.

He turned to stare at her. _Didn't she just go to the south staircase with Neville? _He opened his mouth, but before he could ask his question, Hermione quickly asked one of her own.

"So, what do you think Divination will be like?"

Harry paused, caught off guard by the sudden query. "Umm, I bet it's a load of bunk," he finally responded. "If it really was possible to reliably foretell the future then whoever had the best seer would be unbeatable. Presumably, that would be the Ministry, which means that someone like Voldemort should have been easily defeated. Or, if Voldemort had a powerful seer on his side, he would have known not to attack my parents."

"Perhaps Divination is more limited than you are assuming," Hermione suggested. "In which case, finding ways to exploit the limitations of your enemy's seer constitutes a major aspect of large-scale magical warfare like you were talking about."

"Do you actually think that, or are you just playing devil's advocate?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"I will admit that I am a little bit skeptical, but I am determined to keep an open mind," Hermione said evenly. "Hogwarts is the best magical school. I'm sure the Headmaster wouldn't allow Divination to be taught here if there wasn't some merit to it."

Many ideas of how to respond to that statement came to mind, but Harry pushed them to the side. He and Hermione had long ago settled into an unspoken truce of not discussing things relating to Dumbledore. She had a great deal of trust in the man, while Harry felt he was a meddling busybody who tried to control every aspect of Harry's life. _Case in point, forcing me to take this class,_ Harry thought cynically. _Fortunately, he can force me to take it, but he can't force me to take it seriously._

Finding the classroom took a bit of effort, but Harry was quite familiar with the castle, thanks to his dad's map. And so, after just a few wrong turns, Harry and Hermione finally made it to a small landing at the very top of the North Tower.

"This is the place, right?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.

"This is where the schedule said," Hermione agreed uncertainly. "But I don't see a classroom."

Voices could be heard on the staircase, growing louder. Soon, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil appeared, though their gossip ceased when they noticed their fellow Gryffindors.

"Why are you standing there?" Lavender asked.

Harry shrugged. "This is as high up as the tower goes," he pointed out. "And I don't see a classroom here."

Both girls glanced around, seeming just as mystified as Harry and Hermione. It was Parvati who finally solved the mystery. "Up there," she said, pointing.

Harry looked up to see a brass plaque with writing on it. "I didn't expect to need a broom just to get into the classroom," he muttered.

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch. "We still have almost ten minutes before class is scheduled to begin. I imagine that the teacher will lower a ladder or something like that when the time comes."

"We'd better make the boys go first, then," Parvati groused. "Otherwise they'll be staring up our robes."

Harry had no idea how to respond to that accusation, but fortunately, several more people arriving in the small room provided a sufficient distraction.

Ron had just made it to the top of the staircase, muttering something about a crazy knight when the door above them opened and a silvery ladder descended.

With a glance over at Parvati, Harry quickly climbed to the top, and found himself in the strangest-looking classroom he'd ever seen. And that was certainly saying something, given the approaches to interior decorating Snape and Binns took.

Harry and Hermione settled into chairs near the east wall, facing a large, winged armchair in front of a fire. Harry was a little irritated when Ron took the third seat at their table, but he didn't say anything.

Looking around, Harry was surprised to see that all the Gryffindors except for Neville had chosen to take this class. Several Hufflepuffs were present as well, along with a pair of Slytherins, a boy and a girl. There were no Ravenclaws.

"Welcome," a soft voice suddenly said from the shadows. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Harry felt an odd sense of déjà vu when the teacher, Professor Trelawney appeared. With her whole body covered with chains, beads, spangles and bangles, she looked almost like a large, glittering insect. It reminded him of when Brian Williams had been pretending to be true Voodoo practitioner. Of course, Williams had admitted that his act was just for show. He had a sinking feeling that Trelawney would not be so honest with her students.

The feeling seemed justified as the teacher gave a brief introduction to her class, continuing to speak in a soft, misty voice, trailing off at times as though distracted by things the students could not see.

"You, boy," she said suddenly, pointing at Ron. "Is your father well?"

"I think so," the boy replied, glancing around nervously as he saw that all eyes were on him.

"I wouldn't be so sure," the professor stated ominously before continuing her overview of the topics that would be covered. An uneasy hush settled over the room as the professor finished by stating, "And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

_With any luck, that'll be me,_ Harry thought. Glancing over at Hermione, he was unsurprised to see a look of skepticism. On his other side, Ron seemed to be hanging on to the teacher's every word.

Finally, the introduction was over, and they got their first exposure to the wonderful world of divination.

"It's clearly a swiss army knife," Harry declared authoritatively. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're going to be attacked by a cabal of international bankers."

"I know you don't want to be here, Harry, but at least try to take this seriously," the girl chided.

"Okay, so what do you see in Ron's cup?" he asked challengingly.

She frowned, glancing down once more at the cup. With much effort, Harry refrained from laughing at the disgruntled look on Hermione's face as she studied the leaves. He was sure that this was not what she had expected Divination to be like. Of course, that had been made obvious when Trelawney first stated that books would not be of much help in this class.

"Well, this part could be a house, a symbol of domestic tranquility," Hermione began.

"In a house with Fred and George?" Ron scoffed quietly.

If Hermione had heard him, she made no reply. "It can also mean family in general. This other one could be a river, which indicates change and growth," she continued. "The other symbol is much more indistinct. It's vaguely circular, which could be a sun, a mark of great happiness, or it could be a broken circle, which would mean a loss," she finished.

Then it was Ron's turn to interpret Harry's cup.

"I think it's a bowler hat," Ron said, peering into the cup, turning it this way and that. "Or maybe an acorn?"

"Let me see," Hermione ordered. "It could be an acorn," she admitted after a few moments. "That would be a windfall. But if you look at it from a slightly different angle, then it looks more like a shield, which would signify triumph over adversity."

Unfortunately, at that point Trelawney chose to intervene.

* * *

When class finally let out, everyone was staring nervously at Harry. He was used to that, of course, so just ignored them all as they entered the Transfiguration classroom.

He was pleased to see Neville already there and sat next to his friend.

"So, how was Arithmancy?" he asked politely.

Neville shrugged. "It was okay. I think I can do it, but I am glad that Hermione's there for if I have questions."

Confused, Harry looked over at the other boy, but before he could voice the obvious question, McGonagall entered the room. Not wanting to be caught talking during class by the strict Scottish woman, Harry chose to wait until lunch before asking his friend about the mystery of their other friend.

After a brief discussion regarding the merits of divination (which just angered Harry even more when McGonagall admitted that she didn't have a high opinion of the subject or the teacher, making him wonder why she had been so insistent he take the class) the professor explained that they would be concentrating most of the year on learning to transfigure inanimate objects into various animals.

Of course, magic could not truly create life, so the 'animals' that they made were mere simulacrums, able to move or act like a real animal, but usually without internal organs or blood, unless the spellcaster were a true master of the art.

According to McGonagall, there was an ongoing debate among Transfiguration masters as to whether the newly animated object had an inherent tendency to behave in a manner consistent with the animal it resembled, or whether it behaved wholly as the individual who cast the spell expected – which was, of course, usually consistent with the animal it resembled.

The whole discussion made very little sense to Harry, especially after the professor stated that there was evidence both for and against both sides of the debate. To his relief, they soon moved on to the practical part of the lesson. Harry quickly demonstrated his ability to change a small block of wood into a moth, with Hermione successfully transfiguring her block just a moment later. He was pleased to note that Neville also accomplished the task with little difficulty.

* * *

As they walked to the Great Hall, Harry was determined to get some answers. Fortunately, Hermione had stayed behind to talk to McGonagall about something, so now was the perfect opportunity.

"So, Neville," Harry began. "Was Hermione in your Arithmancy class this morning?"

"Yes," his friend responded slowly, confusion filling his voice.

"That's odd," the black-haired boy said flatly. "Because she was also in Divination with me."

Neville's head shot up. "Really?"

"Really," Harry affirmed. "Somehow, she attended both classes, even though they are held at the same time on opposite sides of the castle."

Neville's eyes grew wide. "Have you ever heard of a time-turner?"

Harry frowned. "I think Cedric mentioned that at the end of last year when we were trying to prove the students accused of being in Justice were innocent." He paused, trying to remember. "He said something about… allowing a person to…" His voice trailed off as he finally recalled what the older boy had said. "To be in two places at once," he finished in a whisper. "You think Hermione has one of those?"

"I don't know of any other way," Neville replied, obviously shocked. "In fact, I'm not even sure if they're real. It's one of those things you hear rumors about, but I've certainly never seen one. And how would she have gotten her hands on it?"

"I'm guessing you can't just buy them at the store," Harry said.

Neville scoffed. "Not a chance. If there are any that aren't under the Ministry's direct control – and that's a big if – they'd be in the possession of some old, powerful family. I can't imagine how on earth Hermione would have found one."

"Do we tell her that we know she has it?" Harry wondered.

"If she hasn't told us, she's probably trying to keep it a secret," Neville said. "I think it would be better to wait for her to bring it up."

Harry wasn't entirely satisfied by this but could admit to himself that Neville had a good point. Most of his desire to confront Hermione about it was simple curiosity about the very powerful and exceptionally rare artifact that she had somehow received.

* * *

After lunch, Harry proceeded to the third floor for the first Care of Magical Creatures lesson while Neville and Hermione left for Ancient Runes. He was completely unsurprised when Hermione suddenly joined him at the bottom of the staircase. _Did she really think that we wouldn't notice?_ Suppressing the urge to innocently inquire how her runes class had been, he instead focused on the upcoming class.

Fortunately, there was no delay in entering this classroom. A few students were already seated when the Gryffindor duo arrived, including (to Harry's hidden dismay) Draco Malfoy. Not wanting to be overheard discussing things with Hermione, he instead turned his attention to the walls, where large photos of many different creatures were prominently displayed. Like all wizarding photographs, the pictures were more like movies, showing the animals in action as they wandered about their natural habitats.

A side door opened, and an old woman with short, grey hair and a large chin walked to the front of the room.

"Good afternoon," the elderly professor began. "I am Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, and this is Care of Magical Creatures. We will not always be meeting in this classroom. Often, we will, in fact, meet outside so that you all can get some hands-on experience with the animals that we are learning about. I will notify you in advance when we will be having these outdoor lessons. Many of you are familiar with the Hogwarts groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. He will be assisting me at times, as he has a great deal of familiarity with many of the animals that we will be covering in our lessons. While he may not be an official professor, while he is assisting in my classes, you will listen and obey him just as you would me."

To Harry's surprise, her eyes seemed to linger for just a moment on the Slytherin side of the room, as though she knew that they would be the ones most likely to ignore Hagrid's authority.

"Now I would like to speak briefly regarding this class. Care of Magical Creatures is a wonderful opportunity for you all to gain valuable skills and knowledge, but it is important that you understand from the beginning what specific lessons you need to learn. Not everyone needs to learn the same things."

The teacher looked around the room. "This is Hogwarts. I know many of you here come from families that have businesses that deal with magical creatures, and so you are taking this class to gain the skills necessary to properly manage such a business. Those of you in that situation will not need to know as much about the specifics of how to take care of these creatures, and will likely best be served by focusing on the information you need to make informed decisions about the business."

"For example, a common question faced by those who manage acromantula farms is what sort of food to give the massive spiders. Feeding them meat of a magical animal such as a dragon is very beneficial for them, and greatly increases both the quality and quantity of silk they produce. However, that meat is obviously much more expensive. Because of this, someone running an acromantula farm would need to find the correct balance to ensure they are delivering a quality product at the best cost. Making that decision can be extremely complicated. In the case I mentioned regarding acromantula silk, there are many different factors that come into play, such as age and gender of the spiders, time of year, weather conditions, intended use of the silk and many other such related questions. Because of this, most successful acromantula farms find it worthwhile to create a specific diet plan for each individual spider. Skilled business managers recognize that they need to have a firm grasp on the variables that affect their product, and thus, on the bottom line. For a business dealing with magical creatures, even if you never intend to physically interact with those creatures, it is still crucial for you to understand them."

The professor paused for a moment before continuing. "Obviously, this does not apply to all of you. Some of you are taking this class with the expectation that you will be working directly with the creatures on a regular basis. In that case, you will be more concerned about how to safely interact with these animals. Sometimes, the concern is for your own safety. Sometimes it is for the animal's safety. If you are an employee in a company that deals with magical creatures, there will likely be policies in place that you will be required to learn and obey. However, if you chose to raise creatures on your own, whether for business or for pleasure, you will need to determine your own guidelines."

Harry had a hard time not looking at Hermione when Professor Grubbly-Plank explained her expectations for their homework. "I don't want you to try to tell me everything you know. Don't fill your essays with facts; I already have those. What I want you to do is to show me that you understand the material by telling me how you could use the knowledge you have gained. If I receive four essays on Jarveys, one from a future business manager, one from a future business employee, one from someone who intends to raise one as a pet and the last from someone who seeks to protect their property from them, there should be a very obvious difference between those four essays, even though they are all focusing on the same creature."

The teacher paused to look severely at the students. "Are there any questions on my expectations for all of you?" A moment of silence followed. "Good. Then let us proceed to the real lesson for today, and that is a basic introduction to magical creatures as a whole. The Ministry of Magic categorizes creatures based on how much of a threat they pose to humans, however, for our purposes, it is often more useful to divide these animals up into three general categories based on how they interact with humans. Those categories are benign, easily provoked, and predatory. A unicorn, for example, is rated as a class XXXX, making it theoretically quite dangerous, and yet, they pose almost no danger to humans unless said human is trying to kill them. On the other hand, a hippogriff is only rated as class XXX, but is much more likely to attack and even kill an unwary individual. Similarly, while a dragon is much more dangerous than an acromantula, most dragons will only attack when provoked. Acromantulas, on the other hand, will deliberately hunt and eat humans given the opportunity."

Despite himself, Harry found the lesson interesting. The teacher spoke clearly, and at just the right speed for everyone to understand and take notes, without it feeling like the lesson was dragging on. And her introduction to the subject had been surprisingly thought-provoking. In all of the other classes, the teachers dispersed information which the students were expected to learn. The idea that here they should focus their efforts on that portion of information that was most applicable to them was quite intriguing.

Harry was both surprised and concerned when Professor Grubbly-Plank asked him to stay for a few minutes after the class was dismissed.

"Mister Potter, what did you think of the lesson?" she inquired.

"It was very good," Harry said honestly. "Quite a bit more informative than I expected, to tell the truth."

"I'm glad to hear that," the teacher replied. "I understand that you did not originally plan to take this class." Harry opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off quickly. "That's not a problem. There are only so many hours in the day, and if you have other things that you would prefer to learn, I am not the least bit offended. But it's clear that there is some sort of power struggle going on between yourself and the headmaster, which is, literally, above my pay grade. So, I would like to propose an agreement. For this year, I will not require you to complete the homework, but you must be an active participant in class. Provided that you do well on the practical work, I will give you an Exceeds Expectations for the year. If, for whatever reason, you are taking the class next year, however, you will be expected to do the assignments like your peers. Is that acceptable?"

"That sounds very reasonable," Harry responded. "I will say that I still intend to transfer out at the earliest opportunity, but for now, I am required to be in class, so I might as well get something out of that time, rather than just wasting it."

"A very mature approach," the professor praised. "And I do hope that you will learn something of value. If I remember correctly, Fleamont Potter made quite a fortune selling hair-care potions, but I haven't heard of House Potter investing heavily in anything since then. Raising magical creatures can be a lucrative business for someone who is willing to put in the time and effort to learn how to do it right. That may be a worthwhile investment that you could look into at some point in the future."

That idea was still bouncing around in his mind as Harry left the classroom, giving a curt nod to Daphne Greengrass who was waiting outside for some reason.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Neville said at supper. "You're frustrated because the class was too good?"

"Yes," Harry replied without a hint of shame. "It's much easier to protest being forced to take a class when the class is undeniably bad – like Divination. That was a complete waste of time. But Care of Magical Creatures was informative, engaging and potentially useful. How am I supposed to complain about that?"

"Maybe you shouldn't be complaining then," Hermione said pointedly. "As you said, it was better than you thought. Maybe the Headmaster knew what he was talking about when he said you should take it."

Harry wasn't willing to go that far. "The decision should have been mine. If he wanted to suggest that the subject had more merit than I thought and that I might enjoy taking it, I would have considered that suggestion. But he had absolutely no right to require that I take it."

It was obvious that Hermione wanted to say more, but, to Harry's relief, she kept her thoughts to herself, and soon the discussion turned to other matters.

As he ate, Harry occasionally found himself glancing up at the head table. And each time, he could see Dolores Umbridge staring at him with undisguised hatred. He rolled his eyes. Even Snape wasn't that obvious.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what class with her would be like. He would find out in just a few days.


	14. Chapter 13: The New Teacher

Chapter 13: The New Teacher

Harry was a little surprised that night when the communicator (which he kept in his pocket just in case Peter or one of the others needed to contact him) heated up and began to vibrate, indicating an incoming call. Making a mental note to speak to Chad about the possibility of adding the ability to see who was calling, he slipped out of the common room and up to the dorm, checking carefully to ensure that he was the only one in the room before answering.

"Hello?"

"Harry, it's Peter," came the reply. "Are you alone?"

"Yes," the boy responded. "I'm up in my dorm, and I doubt that any of the other boys will be up anytime soon. But if I cut off suddenly, I'll call back as soon as I can. What did you need?"

"I wanted to report on what I learned from Brian Williams." At Peter's words, Harry tensed, his hands curling into tight fists. "You were right, the diary is a horcrux."

"So we destroy it and Voldemort is gone for good?" Harry asked. It seemed almost too good to be true.

"I wish it was that simple," Peter answered, and Harry's good mood plummeted. "Brian thinks there is more than one horcrux. I had the idea that we might be able to use the horcrux to find Voldemort, like tracing an anchor back to the ship. He used a form of sympathetic magic that he compared to sonar, where you send out a signal and it echoes back when it hits something. There were multiple echoes, suggesting multiple horcruxes in addition to the main soul piece."

"Do we know how many there are?" Harry inquired. "And can we use this horcrux to track down the others?"

"No, we don't know how many there are, and we don't know if we can use the diary to track the others down," Peter said. "That was just an idea I had that we were experimenting with. While Brian has heard of horcruxes, he's never seen one before, nor has he heard of anyone using multiple horcruxes. This is new territory for all of us. He's going to investigate a little more, put out some feelers to see if any of his contacts have any ideas, but he wasn't overly hopeful. If we can find another horcrux to use in our tests, that would help, but still, the chances aren't great."

"Will that cleansing ritual Brian used on me work to destroy the horcruxes?" Harry wondered.

"No, all you had was a small, basically powerless soul shard stuck in your scar," Peter replied. "A horcrux has been put through a specific ritual to protect it from almost all harm, making it much more difficult to destroy. Basilisk venom or fiendfyre should do the trick, though, unless Voldemort heavily modified the ritual. We'll need to test that out, but it would be best not to destroy the horcruxes until we've had a chance to thoroughly study them. If we can find a way to locate other horcruxes using the one in our possession, that would save us a great deal of time and effort trying to find the others."

Harry wanted to beat his head against the desk. _One step forward and two steps back._ "Okay, thanks for telling me," he finally said. "Talk with the team, see if they have any ideas, but for now I want everyone to stay focused on our current plans. Riddle is the long-term goal. I don't want us to get so distracted trying to defeat him that we lose sight of the more immediate problems."

"Understood," Peter said. "As I said, Brian will be discreetly contacting some people he knows that may have more information. If he learns anything, I'll let you know."

"Right, thanks Peter," the boy responded.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was still thinking over what Peter had said about the horcruxes. That was when he came to a rather unpleasant realization. _Just because Voldemort used horcruxes doesn't mean that is the only method of immortality that he used_, the boy thought with a mental groan. They'd have to keep in mind the possibility that he had employed other means of becoming invincible.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Neville looked at him quizzically. "What's wrong?" his friend asked.

"It's nothing," Harry replied evasively. "Just realized something less than ideal that I'm going to have to deal with at some point."

Fortunately, at that point a large flock of owls entered, distracting not only Neville, but most of the other students as well.

Pretending as though he was just as confused as his peers, Harry took the large bundle attached to the owl in front of him and studied it quizzically.

"Veritas?" he read, then looked around. "Is this a new newspaper? I've never heard of anything like this."

As expected, none of the Gryffindors around him had any answers, just confused frowns as they began to read as well.

"Looks like Harry's right," Katie replied after she quickly skimmed the front page. "Yep, the very first issue."

"Wow, a six-month free trial period with no obligation to continue," Parvati commented, clearly impressed.

"Bet the Prophet's not going to like that much," Neville added.

"Yes, they certainly have my sympathies," Harry said sarcastically, causing several people to chuckle. _I'll have to suggest that we continue to give free copies to the students even after the six months are up,_ he thought. It wouldn't cost much and would likely help bring his peers around to his way of thinking, which could be tremendously helpful.

Harry was pleased to note that most of the students were impressed with the new paper. That, of course, wasn't much of a surprise, as Chad and his team had done well. With a clear, easy to read format and large color pictures scattered throughout, _Veritas_ was obviously a step above its competitor, even at first glance. The different sections drew the students' attention and though most at the Gryffindor table seemed to be reading the sports section (this edition focusing on the Montrose Magpies, arguably the best Quidditch team in Britain) Harry could see other students reading other parts of the paper.

Even the teachers were reading the new paper interestedly. Or at least, most of them were. Harry thought Dumbledore looked slightly concerned as he perused the articles, though the boy had to admit that he could be mistaken; the headmaster was very good at controlling his expression. Umbridge, however, wasn't. She was openly scowling, likely at the idea of a source of news that wasn't under the Ministry's thumb.

Turning back to the front page, Harry began to read the section on British news. As expected, most of the articles were taking advantage of the start of the new school year, focusing on the falling standard of education in magical Britain. There was nothing that would be seen as an obvious attack on Dumbledore, but it did raise a number of questions, such as why Hogwarts was exempt from ministerial education standards. Still, this was just the start. As the new paper's reputation grew, they could start asking harder questions that Dumbledore and Fudge would not want to answer.

Suppressing a smirk of satisfaction, Harry turned back to his breakfast, though he kept an ear out for the other students' comments on what they had just read.

* * *

As Harry expected, the rest of his classes went as usual. Snape still hated him, Binns was still unbelievably boring, Flitwick still shared humorous anecdotes to make his classes more enjoyable, and so forth. Thursday afternoon, however, they finally had the first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Given that Umbridge could often be seen glaring at him during mealtimes, Harry had fairly low expectations of the class, especially since they would be sharing it with the Slytherins. What he found, however, was not quite what he had expected.

"Given the very fragmented teaching that you have been exposed to over the past few years, the Ministry, with the full support of the Wizarding Examinations Authority and the Hogwarts Board of Governors, has decided to implement a new, comprehensive curriculum in this subject across all five years for compulsory education, as well as advanced education for those of you with both the skill and desire to proceed on to NEWT-level," the disagreeable teacher began.

"This year will be much more condensed as we try to get you up to speed with the material that you should have learned during your first and second year. As such, most of our time in class will be spent learning theory as opposed to practicing spells. You are welcome to practice the spells on your own time, but in recognition of the accelerated curriculum, you will not be required to demonstrate them at the end of the year. For those of you who would like to improve your spellcasting outside of class, you will have the opportunity to join the new Defense Against the Dark Arts club which will be meeting in the evenings, specific days and times to be determined."

At this, the toad-like professor turned and waved her wand at the blackboard, and writing appeared.

_Course aims:  
1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic  
2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used  
3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use_

"It is important that you all not only learn the essential skills to defend yourselves or others if necessary, but also gain an understanding of when and how those skills should be used. There have been regrettable instances of people who did not realize this and paid the price. Aurors train for years to be able to resolve conflicts without resorting to spells, and, in those rare cases where spells are necessary, to be able to cast quickly and accurately in order to end the fight with minimal damage, both to the people and to the property. Regular citizens without that training do not have the needed skills."

"A rather foolish man named Matthew Glover found this out firsthand many years ago. He observed a conflict between Aurors and a petty thief and felt that it was his duty to assist. Ignoring the fact that he had no real training, he tried to stun the thief, but his aim was so poor that he instead hit one of the aurors on the scene, thus starting a spellfight which caused tens of thousands of galleons worth of damage and resulted in two bystanders being severely injured. For his actions, Mister Glover was sentenced to Azkaban for five years, even though his intentions may have been good."

"The Ministry recognizes and would never seek to infringe upon the citizens' right to defend themselves. Despite rumors that you may have heard," she said, glaring in Harry's direction, "the Ministry has never punished people for acting in self-defense. However, it is an easily proven fact that when civilians who are untrained and inexperienced interfere in Auror operations, they almost invariably end up causing more problems than if they had just let the professionals do their work. For every case of a civilian successfully intervening, there are a dozen cases where the outcome was nothing short of disaster."

Harry raised his hand, intending to ask about Gordon Belknap, Mitchell Hopkins or any of the others Peter's research had shown were imprisoned unjustly. Unsurprisingly, the professor ignored him, and chose to continue her rather questionable introduction. Undaunted, Harry kept his hand raised, waiting patiently. The longer she chose to ignore him, the more petty she would look to the other students.

"You all need to remember that despite what a certain… child… may have claimed, there is no imminent threat to the Wizarding World," Umbridge said. "We will continue to teach you these skills because a tradition of strong combat ability is part of our proud cultural heritage and has served us well in the past, but for those of you who are new to this society and not interested in learning these particular skills, there is no shame in this."

At this comment, Hermione quickly joined Harry in raising her hand, looking outraged. Still, the professor ignored them both.

"Now, does everyone have a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a general murmur of agreement from the Gryffindor side of the room, but the Slytherins promptly responded, "Yes, Professor Umbridge."

"Thirty points to Slytherin for responding correctly," she said, beaming over at the students in green and silver before turning to look at the Gryffindors. "When I ask a question, you will respond with 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," Harry and the others responded.

"Good," the smirking professor replied. "Now, you will all open to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."

Making no effort to comply with the instructions, Harry continued to gaze at Umbridge, hand still held confidently overhead. He was only marginally surprised to see that Hermione was doing likewise.

"Are you having difficulty understanding my instructions, Mister Potter?"

"No Professor," he replied levelly. "I have a question or two that I imagine many of the other students are wondering about as well."

"Well, we're reading the chapter right now," Umbridge said in a condescending voice. "I'm sure whatever it is, it can wait."

"Are you stating that students in your class are not permitted to ask questions?" Harry asked with forced politeness.

"Relevant questions are permitted," Umbridge replied with a scowl, "but since you have not completed your reading for the day, it is clear that your questions are not pertinent."

"My questions are regarding your introduction to this course," Harry countered. "As such, they are most certainly relevant." He could see many of the other students watching avidly. _Stay calm, stay polite, and present your points logically_, he reminded himself.

Umbridge, unfortunately, had apparently learned from his trial over the summer, and seemed to have no intention of allowing Harry the opportunity to garner support from the other students. "I believe that any questions regarding my introduction will be answered over the course of the year, but if you are too impatient, you may ask me after class. For now, however, not only are you neglecting your assigned work, you are distracting the other students as well. If you cannot follow instructions, you will have plenty of opportunity to practice in detention."

Though he maintained a neutral expression, Harry was scowling inside. "Very well then, I look forward to discussing these matters with you after class."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Umbridge disappeared immediately after the class was dismissed, claiming that she had important matters to which she must attend. For Harry, however, this worked perfectly. He'd had plenty of time when he was supposed to be reading the boring drivel that had been assigned to instead come up with a plan.

"Since the professor has shown that she has no interest in allowing us to ask our questions, I think that we should all write them down," he said to his fellow students. It was mostly Gryffindors, though he was surprised to see a few Slytherins watching him with calculating expressions. "We compile a list, and if she still refuses to answer them, we take the matter to the public. I'm sure that new paper _Veritas_ would be interested to learn more about a high-ranking ministry official sabotaging our educations."

Several of the Gryffindors looked intrigued at this idea, but there were some holdouts. "Does that really matter?" Lavender asked, looking just a little shy as all eyes turned to her (which was a strange expression to see on the gossip queen's face). "I mean, they were just questions."

"But her refusal to answer those questions shows that she doesn't care about our education, and this is a class that may one day save our lives," Harry pointed out.

"You don't really expect us to believe that You-Know-Who will be back someday, do you?" Seamus scoffed.

_Stay calm, stay polite. _"Whether or not you believe me about You-Know-Who is irrelevant. There are always threats," Harry pointed out. "Right now, magical Britain has the lowest number of Aurors that it has had in the past two centuries, and though people like Umbridge want you to think that is because we don't need those Aurors, that's just not true. Even ignoring the Blood War, there have been more crimes per capita in recent years than is average for peacetime. That is an indisputable fact that you can see from the Ministry's own records. And that's just other magicals. There are also dangerous creatures such as werewolves, vampires and hags." Harry gave a soft chuckle. "Think about History of Magic! According to Binns, in the past thousand years, there has been, on average, a Goblin rebellion every ninety years or so. And when was the last rebellion?" he asked.

Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione that answered. "1874," she said promptly.

"So that means we're about… thirty years overdue," Harry continued. "Does anybody want to be caught defenseless when the next rebellion comes?" He grinned as he could see his peers coming around to his way of thinking. _In some ways this is even better than if Umbridge had allowed me to ask these questions in class where she could at least try to argue against me._

"And it's important to remember that it takes time to train Aurors," Harry pointed out. "You can't just wait until someone like Grindelwald or You-Know-Who comes along. You need to prepare in advance. That's why Grindelwald was able to conquer so many countries so easily. During years of peace and prosperity, they reduced their standing police forces, so they were caught off-guard when he began his attacks. The same thing happened here in Britain. For a decade and a half after the Grindelwald war ended, Britain maintained a larger Auror force than normal because we recognized the threat. It was only after the Ministry reduced the number of Aurors that You-Know-Who came to power. And then it was too late."

"The fact is," he continued, "we need this class. Our lives might depend on it. And if Umbridge isn't going to teach us properly, including answering questions when we don't understand, then we need to make sure that people know that. Umbridge herself said that the Ministry, the WEA and the Board of Governors came up with the curriculum. If their work is being wasted by a woman that doesn't want to do her job, it's our duty to let them know so that they can hire someone who will follow their instructions."

"What if she tries to punish us?" Dean asked.

"That's a valid point," Harry responded. "But she already hates me, so let's take advantage of that. When you think of a question, if she doesn't answer it in class, tell me afterward and I'll write it on the list. I'll keep asking her these questions at the beginning of each class, and if she still doesn't answer, we'll go from there. That way, she doesn't know who it was that came up with each question."

"Impressive speech, Potter," Tracey Davis interjected. "What about those of us in Slytherin? Are we allowed to give you questions?"

"Everyone in every house and every year has the right to learn this stuff. So, yes, I will take questions from anyone regardless of what color trim they have on their robes," Harry answered quickly before any of the more hotheaded Gryffindors could respond.

He could see that not everyone was convinced, but there were several students, including Hermione and Neville, who seemed to like his suggestion, judging by the grim smiles on their faces. It wasn't much, but it was a start.


	15. Chapter 14: New Developments

Chapter 14: New Developments

Harry grinned at the way Umbridge's eyes narrowed in anger as he raised his hand. She had apparently realized that it was pointless to refuse to answer questions during class, as it just made her look petty and allowed Harry to point out flaws in the textbook to the other students outside of class. She obviously didn't like it, though.

They were now reading the second chapter, '_Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation_'. And if anyone had hoped that the book would improve after the incredibly boring introduction, those hopes were dashed. If anything, chapter two was worse.

"Yes, Mister Potter, is there something in the text that you had a difficult time understanding?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

Harry ignored the implied insult. "I just wondered about the validity of a few of the claims the author made. For example, he says that a _protego_ charm is sufficient in almost every circumstance to protect the victim until help arrives. However, a _protego_ doesn't provide full, 360-degree coverage. It only protects the area in front of the person." Harry stopped to consider that statement. "Or at least, in front of their wand."

He grabbed his wand and quickly cast a _protego_ – non-verbally, of course, for maximum effect in demonstrating his skill. "I'd guess that's only about 80 degrees of coverage," he said as he studied his shield, then let it drop. "Which means that a standard shield charm is completely useless against multiple assailants attacking from different directions. And given that, according to the official Auror reports, more than 90% of violent crimes in the last two decades were perpetrated by two or more individuals working together, Mister Slinkhard's claim that a _protego _is adequate defense seems to be dangerously misguided. This, of course, doesn't even bring up the use of the Killing Curse, which cannot be blocked by any known magical shield."

Harry paused for a moment, delighted at the anger on Umbridge's face. "So, as our Ministry-approved Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, what do you think of Mister Slinkhard's statement?"

"While a shield may not be completely effective in every situation, it should be the preferred procedure for dealing with an attack," Umbridge responded tightly.

Now Neville raised his hand. "Professor Umbridge, are you saying that the Ministry is specifically instructing us to defend ourselves using a method that has a less than 10% chance of being successful, and would leave us completely vulnerable the remaining 90% of the time?"

Interestingly, while Umbridge still glared at his friend, Harry thought that she seemed a little apprehensive as well when faced with the Longbottom scion.

"No, I am simply stating that a shield should be the first choice. If that is not sufficient, other methods may be used," Umbridge said. "You will also note that the author specifically addresses the threat of multiple assailants attacking when he advises that a would-be victim position themselves in a location such that the assailants can only approach from one direction."

Hermione's hand shot up at that statement. Umbridge looked like she wanted to ignore her, but with all eyes watching, she reluctantly called on the Gryffindor muggleborn. "Professor, Mister Slinkhard also states that an individual who is attacked has a duty to retreat in the face of conflict. How is one supposed to retreat if they have deliberately backed themselves into a corner to ensure that they can only be attacked from one direction?" Her tone was innocent, but there was no denying the satisfaction on her face.

Harry suppressed a grin. Judging by her expression, the toad-like teacher was not pleased with her first-hand experience at exactly how it felt to be backed into a corner.

* * *

"Is it just me, or does she always look a little nervous when Neville raises his hand?" Hermione asked as they walked out of the classroom half an hour later.

"I noticed the same thing," Harry agreed.

Neville shrugged. "My gran is on the Wizengamot, and I will be too, someday," he pointed out. "Given how much power the Wizengamot has over the Ministry, she's probably nervous about that. I'm just surprised that Umbridge is willing to go so far to sabotage our educations, given that there are four people in our class that will one day be on the Wizengamot. That's a lot of political power to be alienating."

Harry frowned. "Four? You, me, and Theodore Nott I know. Who's the fourth?"

"Wait, you'll be on the Wizengamot?" Hermione interjected, staring at Harry. "Since when?"

He shrugged. "Well, once I recover my rightful inheritance, yes. I'll be able to claim the Black seat, given that I was supposed to be my godfather Sirius Black's primary heir. For now, though, Malfoy has claim because of a gross misapplication of a law."

Neville frowned. "That's going to be tough to prove," he warned.

"I'm confident it will all work out," Harry said with a grin. "Plans are already in motion," he added enigmatically.

Neville looked curious but didn't press the issue. "The fourth is Daphne Greengrass," he said instead.

"Greengrass?" Harry was confused. "I thought she had an older brother. Philip, right? He was one of the ones that attacked those muggleborn students last year."

"Yes, he was," Neville agreed. "And in response to that, he was disinherited. He's still allowed to use the Greengrass name, but besides that, it's like he's not even a member of the family anymore."

"Wow, I didn't realize that any of them had suffered any punishment outside of school," Harry commented, quite surprised.

"My Gran thinks it's mostly for show, so he might be brought back in later. But she was very pleased at the idea that the Greengrass name might die out." The boy looked a little uncomfortable. "She doesn't like House Greengrass," he explained.

"Why?" Hermione wondered.

Neville shrugged awkwardly. "Just… some bad history between our houses," he finally said. Harry thought there was more to it than that but didn't want to press the issue when it obviously made his friend feel uncomfortable.

* * *

Soon there was something else to keep Harry occupied. The Quidditch season was starting, and Oliver was as maniacal as ever in his pursuit of the Cup.

Though the team had won the Cup the previous year, that wasn't enough for their captain, who wanted one more victory under his belt in his final year. As such, they were training three times a week, often staying out late and continuing despite inclement weather to ensure that they were ready for whatever conditions they were forced to play in. It was exhausting, but fun at the same time.

Not surprisingly, when Umbridge finally announced that the official Defense Against the Dark Arts club would be starting up for those students who wanted more practice in their actual spell casting, Harry wasn't the only one who noticed that the meetings were scheduled for Mondays and Thursdays, which just so happened to be the days that the Gryffindor Team had the Quidditch pitch reserved.

He was tired and sore from a long practice of dodging bludgers from the ever-enthusiastic Weasley Twins when Neville and Hermione returned from the first meeting of the club. Even at just a glance, Harry could tell that something had happened to infuriate his female friend.

"Apparently, there were too many people who came to the meeting, so to ensure that such a problem does not occur again, the students will be divided into two levels, a beginner club and an advanced one," Hermione snarled without preamble. "Umbridge had a separate room set up so that each student could prove their skills individually without being observed. And what a surprise! The Slytherins and most of the purebloods from other houses were placed in the advanced class, while the muggleborns had a _shocking_ tendency to be placed in the beginner class."

Harry frowned as he considered his friend's words. "While it's obvious to us that the placement was rigged from the get-go, that's going to be tough to prove. Splitting a club like that up into different levels makes sense, provided it's done fairly."

Neville looked a little uncomfortable. "I'm not denying that Umbridge is biased, but to be fair, most of the purebloods and half-bloods that grew up in the Wizarding World are more familiar and comfortable with magic. They've been around it their whole lives, not to mention that many probably began learning before they came to Hogwarts. I did," he admitted, then continued in a softer voice, "not that it helped much when I was trying to learn from my Gran."

Seeing the angry expression indicating an imminent eruption of Mount Hermione, Harry quickly interjected, "He's not saying that muggleborns are inherently worse at magic, Hermione, he's making the perfectly valid point that people who grew up without magic are at a disadvantage, especially during their first few years." Harry took a deep, calming breath. "I have no doubt that if you had been judged fairly you would have been in the advanced group, but many of the other muggleborn students do not have the same drive to learn that you do. Dean, for example, is a great guy but his spell-casting ability is definitely at the lower-end of the class."

"He's better than Crabbe or Goyle," Hermione argued.

"I don't disagree. And if they are in the advanced class, I'm not sure how in the name of Merlin Umbridge is going to try to justify that if anyone makes an issue of it. But proving that the division in the club was due to bigotry will be difficult."

"And getting anyone to do anything about it will be even more difficult," Neville added.

"We'll see about that," Hermione vowed as she stormed out of the room.

* * *

Despite Hermione's protests, the divided Defense club continued. As expected, the beginner class was, while not quite a waste of time, definitely aimed at a lower level than most of the students were ready for. They focused almost exclusively on accuracy drills and simple, harmless spells like minor jinxes. After less than two weeks, Hermione had quit attending, and Neville admitted that he was considering quitting as well, even though he had been placed in the advanced group. Apparently, most of the instruction there was from the students themselves, and Neville had no desire to learn spells from the older Slytherins that dominated the club, or to allow them the opportunity to attack him under the guise of a 'duel'.

And so things settled into a routine. It wasn't one that anybody was pleased with, but with Dumbledore and the rest of the faculty remaining neutral in the subtle power struggle, a cold war had developed, neither side wanting to give an inch, but also not wanting to act in an overt manner that would lead to them being seen as the unreasonable party.

Of course, Harry knew that such a state of affairs couldn't last forever. And to his surprise, the catalyst for major change came in the form of news that arrived on October 16.

"It's Binky!" Lavender Brown wailed to her best friend, Parvati. "A fox got into his house and ate him!"

Ignoring Lavender's sobs about her deceased pet rabbit, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione. "What did you say?"

"I said that we need to do something about this!" Hermione repeated with a scowl, pointing at the newspaper.

"What is it?" Neville asked with obvious trepidation.

Hermione grabbed the paper and began to read. "'_In an era where magical heritage is being discarded and our invaluable traditions lost, we are proud to announce a new organization, called 'The Foundation for the Future' which will ensure the continuation of the great magical legacy that we have received from our ancestors.'_" Still scowling, she looked up. "And what a surprise, it's supported and endorsed by _prominent citizens_ like Lucius Malfoy and Agamemnon Nott."

Harry and Neville shared a glance. "I'm not sure what you think we can do about that, Hermione," Harry finally said.

"That's not what I was talking about," Hermione snapped. Harry and Neville shared another look. Both boys had noticed that their friend was getting more and more irritable as the year progressed.

"This is what I was referring to," she stated as she resumed reading. "'_Foundation chairman Victor Grey has already pledged that the organization will be offering free tutoring to members and their children, including school-aged children over the summer, in order to combat the falling standards that have recently been observed in Hogwarts and other schools._' And given that membership is by invitation only, they're basically saying that the purebloods will get to practice magic over the summer while the muggleborns get arrested if they do."

"I still don't understand what you think we should do," Neville said gently.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione demanded. "We need to learn more, and give everyone who's not a pureblood bigot the chance to learn more. We start our own group."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean? We can't start a club without faculty approval, and Dumbledore's made it clear he's not going to help us."

"It doesn't need to be an official club," Hermione countered emphatically. "Just a bunch of people getting together to practice. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Who would teach us?" Neville asked.

"Harry!" Hermione replied immediately.

"So nice of you to ask before volunteering me," Harry said dryly.

Hermione was unrepentant. "You're the best in our year at DADA. I'm sure you'd be brilliant."

He sighed. "Let me think about it."

* * *

After a few weeks of nagging from Hermione (and more subtle encouragement from Neville) Harry finally agreed to teach any of the other students who wanted to learn. Though Hermione wanted the inaugural meeting to be in Hogsmeade that weekend, Harry felt it would be better and likely draw less attention if they instead met in one of the many deserted classrooms while Umbridge was busy with the DADA club.

This proved to be a fortunate decision, given that if the meeting had been held on the Hogsmeade weekend, Harry would have been unable to attend, as it turned out.

"Mister Potter, I am aware that your uncle signed the form," McGonagall said, frustration evident in her voice. "But ultimately, the decision rests with the headmaster, and given the recent attempt on your life, he felt it best if you remained at Hogwarts." She fixed Harry with a stern glare. "Quite frankly, I find it appalling that you are so cavalier about this matter. Your parents died to protect you. A fine way to repay their sacrifice, by risking yourself to buy dungbombs and butterbeer."

Fury raged up inside the boy, but he forced it under control with some effort. "Fine," he spat as he stormed back inside. _How dare she use my parent's sacrifice to try to control me! _Avoiding the questioning glances from the younger students, Harry darted up the stairs. Waiting for about twenty minutes to ensure no one would try to disturb him, he grabbed his invisibility cloak and broom and was soon speeding toward the distant wardline.

Once he was sure that he was far enough away, he activated the very illegal portkey Mac had provided for him and disappeared.

* * *

Harry hit the hard carpet with a loud thud.

"Nice landing," a familiar voice mocked.

Harry looked up to see Chad standing by the door with a large smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," the boy said wearily as he climbed to his feet.

"I'll let everyone know you're here," the American said as he disappeared down the corridor.

Harry walked over to the conference room, where the others quickly gathered.

"Thank you all for coming in today. My apologies for disturbing your weekends," Harry began. "I've been reading Peter's reports, and we want to keep this short, so everyone just update us on things that have changed." He looked up. "Let's go around the room, starting with Mac."

"We started training the first DragonFire soldiers on Tuesday. I plan to put them through their paces for the next two or three months, then we'll see about expanding our numbers, using this first group as captains for additional training groups."

"Where are you training?" Michelle asked.

"Up at the hunting lodge in Scotland," the gruff old hitwizard replied. "Eventually, I'd like a dedicated training facility, but this works for now."

"So, we're still limited to eight, right?" Harry asked. Mac nodded. "So, ideally, would you want to have eight training groups in the future, or just four and have the veterans doubled up on each team?"

"Depends on how many people we can get," Mac said bluntly. "If we really want to provide security at the World Cup next year, we'll need dozens at least, preferably a hundred or more. If we can get those kinds of numbers, we'll have to have at least eight training groups. We'll need to step up our recruiting when the time comes, but I think it's doable."

"I assume that we're trying to avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves until Dan's big play, right?" Connor asked, glancing over at the dark-haired businessman at the other side of the table.

"That would be preferable," Dan replied. "Fudge and some of the more gullible ones don't seem to suspect anything, but not everyone is that oblivious."

"Right, we don't want to do anything to risk exposure too soon," Harry agreed before turning back to Mac. "Concentrate on training your current team. We can look at increasing recruitment at a later date."

"Right," Mac agreed. "That's it for me."

"Connor," Harry said, gesturing to the red-headed man.

"Not much new to report," came the reply. "I have further developed my earlier idea of a large, warded community, and I think that it is viable, but will require ministerial authorization. Hopefully, in the shakeup after we've exposed Fudge's crimes we can start work on that."

"When you have time, I'd like you to take a look at the wards around my relatives' home. Dumbledore seems to think that they're incredibly powerful, but they didn't stop someone planting a potion bomb in my room. With school in progress, he shouldn't be paying much attention to the house, so I'd like an expert opinion on the wards," Harry instructed.

"I'll do it," Connor promised as he made a note.

"Peter," Harry prompted, glancing over at the next man.

"As everyone now knows, the diary was a horcrux, but we think that there are more out there. I will continue working with Brian Williams to see if we can discover some way to locate the others, but it would be foolish to plan on it. But I was thinking and realized that if Voldemort gave one to Lucius Malfoy, he may have given one to other followers as well. I think we should add that to the questions for when we interrogate the convicted Death Eaters."

"I'll put it on the list," Dan confirmed.

Peter nodded his thanks. "That's it for me."

"Chad?"

"Newspaper is going well, we'll gradually increase the attacks on Dumbledore and the Ministry, but for now we're playing nice," the American informed them.

"We'll come back to Michelle," Harry said. "So, Dan, anything you need to report?"

"As you all know, things are going well on my end," the man replied. "Thanks to Malcolm for helping out. I'll need some support from Connor on the wards when we start construction on the building, but nothing else for now."

"And Malcolm?"

"Nothing to report," the accountant replied.

Harry nodded. "Okay, thanks everyone, that was quick. Now, Michelle has some information for us regarding Tom Riddle."

The sole woman in the group stood and began handing out paper folders. "These are rather simple dossiers that I put together about Tom Riddle, particularly his early life. Now, as of yet we still have no real evidence that Riddle is Voldemort, but given the horcrux and his exceptional skill with magic, we are confident that our assumption is correct."

She walked to the front of the room. "Tom Riddle was born on December 31, 1926. According to the orphanage records, his mother died during childbirth or shortly thereafter, living long enough to name him after his father Tom, and his maternal grandfather, Marvolo. This suggests that he was the son of Merope Gaunt, who lived in a small hovel near the Riddle property.

"His time in the orphanage corresponded with a global economic recession. Britain was still recovering from World War I, and millions were unemployed. I can't imagine that it was an easy time to be an orphan in the slums of London, but we can only guess what part that played in Riddle's development. I managed to track down a man named William Stubbs who had been in Wool's Orphanage with Riddle. Tellingly, he remembered exactly who I was talking about, and had no problem believing that I was investigating him for possible involvement in a series of murders. According to him, Riddle was vengeful and vindictive, quick to take offense and completely unwilling to forgive.

"Interestingly enough, it was a side comment that Mister Stubbs made which led me to discover a connection to something that I would likely not have noticed otherwise. And that has to do with the timing of Riddle's entry into the Wizarding World – or more precisely, something that had happened exactly fifty years earlier. I'll come back to this in just a moment."

Michelle took a quick drink of water before continuing. "Albus Dumbledore was the one who informed Riddle about his magical abilities. The report in his Hogwarts file is almost completely lacking in details, but according to Mister Stubbs, whatever happened during that meeting had a noticeable effect on Riddle. He became even more arrogant and confrontational, but also, he tended to isolate himself even more than he had. There had been several other boys who had gathered behind him over the years, but he cut himself off from them without any apparent explanation. And then, there is the one last point that I referenced earlier. At that time, there was a major increase in interest in the case of Jack the Ripper, who had been active in Whitechapel, less than a mile from the orphanage, exactly fifty years earlier. According to Mister Stubbs, Riddle was fascinated with the stories, frequently sneaking away from the orphanage to follow tour groups through the city as they showed each place that the victims had been murdered.

"Now this idea that Riddle was heavily influenced by England's most notorious serial killer is rather interesting, and we can see certain similarities in behavior after he began his transition into Lord Voldemort. For example, Voldemort displayed a tendency to mutilate his victims. As we all know, he liked to claim credit for his kills by leaving the Dark Mark behind, which, while not a direct allusion to Jack the Ripper, seems to fit with the general idea. He wanted people to remember and fear him even years later, just as they had with Jack the Ripper.

"Another striking similarity is that they both left behind a letter claiming responsibility for their crimes. Several letters were sent by individuals claiming to be Jack the Ripper. The most famous was probably the one usually referred to as the 'From Hell' letter, while Voldemort left behind what has been called the 'Death Manifesto' when he killed most of the leaders of a muggleborn advocacy group called Equitas in 1970, at the beginning of what is commonly known as the Blood War. I've included a copy of that letter on page fifteen in the dossier I handed out," Michelle informed them.

Harry flipped open the folder, reading quickly.

_I am Lord Voldemort, speaking unto those of magical blood who remember and honor the sacred traditions of our forebearers. For too long we have crouched in the shadows, as these foul invaders pollute our bloodlines, steal our wealth and defile our traditions. Every day they grow stronger, and we grow weaker. But this must end! The time to act is now. And so, I have taken the first step. By the blood of these vermin exterminated here today, I swear that I will defend our country and our traditions. The true patriots of Magical Britain will always remember I am Lord Voldemort, the rightful heir of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin. I shall finish the great work which he started. And let this be a warning to those who do not have the courage to stand with me, for those who stand against me shall inevitably fall._

"Had a pretty high opinion of himself, didn't he?" Chad remarked to no one in particular, then in a louder voice, asked, "Michelle, I apologize for interrupting, but for the benefit of those of us from outside the country, can you give us a little more information on this muggleborn group?"

"I'd like that as well, but why don't we save it for another day," Harry interjected. "We've covered a lot of information already, and I think it might help if we spread it out so we're not overwhelmed with more than we can remember."

Michelle nodded. "I'll gather information on Equitas for the next meeting. For now, I want to point out a few things that I noticed in the manifesto. The first is that he makes three accusations against the 'foul invaders' – polluting bloodlines, stealing wealth and defiling traditions. This is very similar to a speech given in the Wizengamot by Oswald Rosier less than a decade earlier. Given that Rosier was a Slytherin just a year ahead of Riddle, I don't think that the similarity is purely coincidental. But the question of who influenced whom is still unknown.

"Another point is the phrase, '_by the blood of these vermin exterminated here today'_, which is very similar to the quote attributed to Steffan Selwyn when he rallied the people during the Goblin War of 1743. That war is significant in that the ministry was clearly losing prior to Selwyn's actions. Despite the numerous atrocities he committed, Selwyn is thus seen as a hero by many."

Michelle paused for another drink. "The third thing that I find interesting is that he uses the phrase, '_Magical Britain will always remember I am Lord Voldemort.'_ There's something about that word choice that I find unusual. If he wanted them to remember him, it would make more sense for him to say that they will always remember Lord Voldemort. Saying that they will remember 'I am Lord Voldemort' makes it sound like he's laying claim to a pre-existing title, but to the best of my knowledge, there has never been anyone who used that name before. In fact, it may be a complete coincidence, but both times that he uses the name Lord Voldemort, the words 'I am' appear right before it. I have no idea what this could signify, however."

A moment of silence filled the conference room. "Anything else you want to point out about the letter?" Harry asked.

Michelle shook her head. "Not unless anyone else notices anything."

"Alright, then let's stop it there today," Harry concluded. "Thank you for the information, Michelle. Everyone, please remember that while we have many side goals and objectives, our primary concern is preparing to eliminate Riddle. He's still out there, and he won't stop until he has found a way to regain a body. We need to be ready. The more we know about him, the more we can plan and prepare. Please take the time to go through the information that Michelle has compiled for us, and if you have any thoughts or ideas, tell her."

"Also, remember that we need to find the horcruxes," Peter added. "According to Brian, horcruxes are usually placed in locations that are significant to the criminal who made them. We aren't going to begin searching until after Fudge and Malfoy have been dealt with, but if we can get a list of possible locations, that will help. Michelle and I have already identified some potential locations such as the Gaunt property, but if you have any thoughts on that matter, please tell me."

* * *

The return portkey deposited Harry in the foothills north of Hogsmeade, and he quickly made his way into town, slipping into Zonko's to purchase his yearly tribute for Peeves (including additional products the poltergeist insisted on as a late penalty for forgetting to have it ready first thing).

Fortunately, his absence seemed to have gone undetected, and he slipped back into Hogwarts without issue.

It was at the feast that night that he realized it was the first Halloween since he reentered the Wizarding World in which nothing had gone wrong.

He just hoped that his recent good luck would last.


	16. Chapter 15: Quidditch Troubles

Chapter 15: Quidditch Troubles

As was so common these days, Harry trudged back to the common room after Quidditch practice tired and sore. It was only with considerable effort that he suppressed a groan as he saw Hermione waiting for him.

"Hermione, I'm cold and exhausted," he interjected before she could say a word. "I'm going to go up and shower. When I'm done, we can talk."

His friend nodded, and Harry plodded up the stairs toward the third-year boys' dormitory.

It was a much-refreshed boy that came back down to the common room to find Hermione and Neville at a table in the corner working on their homework.

"So, Hermione, what did you want to talk about?" Harry inquired as he sat down.

"We need to figure out when we're going to start the defense club," the bushy-haired girl replied.

Harry thought through his options quickly. He had finally agreed to go along with her plan the week earlier, but that didn't mean that he was terribly enthusiastic about the idea.

"Oliver's still pushing us hard, but that should let up after the game on Saturday," Harry finally said. "I'll still have practice on Monday, but we can have the defense club on Tuesday. I assume that you're quietly spreading the word?"

Hermione nodded, a smile on her face as she replied. "I've spoken with several of the other students that are also dissatisfied with being stuck in the beginner DADA practice club."

"Okay, then let them know about Tuesday. But I'm going to turn in early," Harry said as he walked back over to the staircase.

He entered the dorm, unsurprised to see that he was the only there, took off his shoes and laid down. To his surprise, the door opened just a moment later. He looked up to see Neville entering, a hesitant expression on his face.

"So, are you actually going to sleep, or was that just to get away from talking any more about the defense group?" the fair-haired boy asked.

Harry groaned. "Was I really that obvious?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted with a shrug. "But it seems like every time Hermione brings it up, you find some reason to change the subject or leave."

Silence filled the room as Harry thought of a way to respond.

"If you don't want to do the club, you don't have to," Neville reminded him. "You can tell Hermione no."

Harry stared up at the canopy of the bed for several seconds before replying. "I know. But in some ways, I think it is a good idea. People do need to learn this stuff, and it does help me by getting the students on my side. But still, teaching a group of people who just a few months ago were accusing me of brutally attacking other students isn't something I'm particularly looking forward to."

Neville frowned thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense. I hadn't really thought about it from that perspective."

"It's kind of like in first year, when I defended myself from Malfoy and his goons, and McGonagall took all those points. Everyone shunned and insulted me for weeks – or months." Harry wasn't even trying to hide the frustration and anger in his voice. It just felt good to get it off his chest. "And not just Gryffindor. The other houses were the same way. Except for Slytherin, obviously," he added with a frown. "And then, they expect me to just forget all about it when they decide that they're willing to associate with me again."

Harry took a deep breath before continuing his rant. _No, not a rant_, he reminded himself. It was simply an emphatic discussion of the frustrations he was feeling. "Literally the only person that apologized for how they treated me was Katie Bell. Everyone else just let it go. When I did point out what they had done, they acted like it was just a small thing. As though I should just forget about the fact that they had all treated me like garbage for months."

"People don't like feeling guilty," Neville said softly. "It's easier for them to just pretend that they didn't do anything wrong than admit that they made a mistake. It's been the same way for me with my cousins," the boy admitted.

"You don't talk about your family much," Harry pointed out.

"That's because I don't see them much," Neville admitted. "My gran married into the family, and from what I can tell, it doesn't sound like she and my grandfather had the best marriage. It was arranged," he explained, not quite making eye-contact with Harry. "When my grandfather died, and then…" Neville trailed off, staring at the floor.

Harry waited patiently until finally, Neville drew a big breath and looked up at his friend, tears visible in the corners of his eyes. "Have I told you about my parents?" Neville asked, his voice filled with reluctance and sorrow.

"I've done some research into the Death Eaters, so I know what happened," Harry responded quietly.

Neville nodded sadly. "As you probably know, House Longbottom has a number of investments, mainly in the field of herbology. Since my parents aren't… can't run things, Gran's the one that's in charge, even though she's not a Longbottom by birth. Growing potions ingredients isn't the most prestigious occupation, so sometimes people look down on House Longbottom, and I think that includes her. She's always telling me that my parents would have wanted me to be more than just a dirt farmer. It's led to some tension in House Longbottom. I don't know everything, but it seems like most of my relatives don't really like her, but since she's the acting Head of House Longbottom, there isn't much they can do. Before I started Hogwarts, everyone thought that I was pretty much a squib, and I was fat and weak as well. My cousins weren't very supportive of me," he admitted, eyes on the ground once more.

It was times like this that reminded Harry that he wasn't the only one whose childhood had been far from ideal.

"Anyways, things have gotten better now that I've been exercising and with my grades going up because I have my own wand people can't say I'm a squib, so my cousins have stopped insulting me, but none of them have apologized." Neville shrugged awkwardly. "So, I know what you mean."

Harry nodded. "It would be one thing if it had just been one time, but when people act like that for months, or years in your case, are you really supposed to just forget about it and let it go?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "So are you going to teach the club?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. Like I said, it's a good idea, even if I don't particularly like some of the people who will probably be there," he said reluctantly.

Neither boy had much to say after that, both lost in dark thoughts about their unpleasant pasts.

* * *

For about the tenth time, Harry read over the brief passage covering the patronus charm. He could practically quote it by memory now, but he still wasn't having much success in casting it, even though he'd been working on it for months. There was just something that he was missing. He could make a silvery vapor, but he still couldn't make that leap to producing a corporeal patronus no matter how hard he tried.

Suppressing a groan, the boy stood and stretched, then grabbed the DADA reference book and strolled over to the appropriate section to put it back on the shelves. Last night's discussion with Neville had brought up a lot of feelings that he had carefully buried, and he was grateful that Hermione was busy with something else, giving Harry time on his own to think things through.

Not that he'd found any solutions to his inner turmoil. He was still bitter about how he had been treated, but ranting at everyone that came to the meeting and demanding they all apologize and respect him from now on was probably not the best approach to take.

It was as he gathered his belongings back into his bag, that he noticed a piece of parchment tucked under one corner of his notebook. Frowning, the boy grabbed the unexpected item, and was surprised to see his name written in large letters on the top of the folded parchment.

Harry looked around the library surreptitiously but couldn't see anyone paying attention to him. Fingering the letter thoughtfully, he slipped it in his pocket and walked out calmly.

* * *

Ducking into a nearby unused classroom, Harry studied the letter closely. A few quick spells showed that there was no harmful magic on it (at least, as far as he could tell), so, still a bit suspicious, he broke the seal on the parchment and began to read.

_Potter,_

_Be aware that Umbridge and Malfoy are planning something for the Quidditch game tomorrow. I don't know exactly what, but I suspect that they intend for Malfoy to provoke you, and when you respond, Umbridge will punish you harshly._

_I suspect that you are already aware that Umbridge seems fixated on you, and, of course, Malfoy is not any better. If you are interested, I would be willing to pass on any other relevant information that I discover._

_Naturally, I do have conditions. Primarily, that you will not make any attempt to identify me. I know that you have a habit of using omnioculars as security cameras to record things. Don't try it. Further, I expect that you will notify me if there is anything that might impact the neutral Slytherins. Yes, I will admit that I am a member of that house, as you could probably guess by the fact that I am in a position to overhear Malfoy's plots._

_If you agree to these terms, we can leave messages in the library. There is space to hide a letter on the underside of the second shelf from the bottom in the sixth-year history section, just below the series of books with a red cover by Gertrude Jormundsen. Due to the bend in the aisle, it is unlikely that anyone will notice us pausing there to leave a message._

_When you leave a message, notify me by turning the halberd of the suit of armor next to the portrait of Humphrey the Huguenot so that the spike points toward the main staircase. I will notify you of a message by rotating the star chart on the fourth floor near Sinistra's office so that Pegasus is at the bottom._

_Sincerely,  
Your mysterious new informant_

Suppressing the urge to groan, Harry studied the letter once more. The writing was too uniform to be handwritten. Doubtless, his new associate had used a dictaquill. Both the armor and the star chart were in locations that, while not heavily traveled, were not so far out of the way as to make it unusual if someone were to pass by once or twice a day.

Which just left the question of how much he could trust this unknown person.

_I guess I'll just have to see what happens tomorrow at the game,_ he thought grimly.

* * *

Despite the unpleasant weather, Harry was in a good mood as he raced around the arena, skillfully dodging players to intercept a pass from the Slytherin chasers. Tossing the quaffle to Alicia, he resumed his hunt for the elusive Snitch, tuning out Angelina's cry of 'Chimera six'. As the chasers sped into formation for one of Oliver's complicated (but clearly effective, given that Gryffindor was up by 110 points in less than half an hour) plays, Harry rose high above the action, eyes darting this way and that as he searched, hoping to spot the telltale glitter of the golden ball.

Not surprisingly, Malfoy followed, still yelling insults, mostly focused on Harry's 'mudblood mother' and 'blood traitor father'. If he hadn't known what Malfoy's goal was, Harry might have lost his temper, but with the warning from his new informant, Harry was able to keep his emotions in check. Of course, the fact that he had taken a calming draught before the game also helped.

Deliberately widening his eyes as though in shock, Harry sped into a steep dive, accelerating rapidly, then leveled out about fifteen feet off the ground. As he had hoped, Malfoy was now trailing him. Shifting this way and that to prevent Malfoy from getting a clear look ahead, Harry continued to race forward, arm outstretched as though reaching for something, though in truth his gaze was fixed on the arena wall drawing nearer and nearer.

At the last instant, Harry put both hands back on the broom, grabbing tightly as he pulled up with all his might. After so many months of practice, he knew exactly how his trusty Nimbus performed, and so he was less than three feet from the wall when he shot up into the sky, doing a loop and pausing momentarily to appreciate the outcome of his little maneuver.

As he had hoped, Malfoy had been caught off-guard by Harry's sudden change of direction and crashed into the wooden wall. Given that no foul had been committed, the game continued even as Madam Pomfrey rushed to the aid of the Slytherin seeker.

Once more flying high above the main level of play, Harry gazed down once more. A splash of gold in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned his broom and began to dive once more. The snitch, somehow detecting that it was being chased, darted toward the Slytherin goals, and Harry rolled to follow it.

That was when he realized that something was wrong.

Cursing under his breath as he tried to control the unresponsive broom, Harry could only watch as the ground grew nearer, his broom refusing to pull out of the dive fast enough to avoid the imminent collision.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to level out in time, Harry threw himself off the broom, trying to land sideways and rolling. He was at least partly successful.

As he finally came to a stop, Harry took a moment to check his injuries. Though he was very sore and had several painful scrapes, at least he hadn't broken anything. A loud crack echoed through the arena, and he looked over to see that his broom had continued without him, crashing into the wall with a shocking amount of force.

Mind racing, Harry struggled to catch his breath, glad that the calming draught he had taken earlier was keeping him from panicking as he realized what had happened.

Whoever had tried to kill him over the summer had just made another attempt.

* * *

It was rare for both seekers to be incapacitated in a Quidditch game, but it did happen on occasion. If both were unable to resume play within fifteen minutes, the game would end and whichever team was ahead in points would win.

Since Gryffindor had a decisive lead, Flint had called a timeout and was desperately trying to get one of his housemates to take Malfoy's place. Gryffindor, however, had the opposite problem. Harry was well enough to continue playing, but his broom was badly damaged (not to mention, someone had cursed it somehow).

Right as Oliver was about to have Harry take Katie's broom and just have the youngest Gryffindor chaser play with one of the school's old Shooting Stars, someone emerged from the locker rooms and approached the huddle of red-clad players.

"Harry, here, you can use mine," Cedric Diggory said, holding his broom out.

Harry was stunned. "Cedric, are you sure?"

"It's only fair," the older boy replied. "Whatever happened to your broom obviously wasn't your fault."

The Gryffindors were impressed by this display of Hufflepuff values. Or, at least, most of them were.

"Great," Oliver said, snatching the broom out of Cedric's hands and shoving it toward the green-eyed Gryffindor. "Now Harry, let's end this quickly before something else happens. I want you to focus on getting the snitch. No more games."

"He meant to say 'thank-you'," Alicia meanwhile assured her Hufflepuff year mate, who just seemed amused. Oliver's obsession with Quidditch was quite legendary, after all.

"Thanks Cedric," Harry called as Madam Hooch's whistle signaled the end of the time-out and both teams mounted their brooms to resume play. Though the Cleansweep handled a little differently than his Nimbus had, Harry had no difficulty adapting. The fourth-year boy that had taken Draco's place was nowhere near Harry's level, and soon the game had ended with a final score of 410-90.

* * *

"Improper broom maintenance," Harry repeated, his voice dripping with derision. "That's what you think it was?" _I wouldn't have pushed so hard for the Aurors to investigate if I had known they would be sending these two._

"That's what the evidence shows," Gibbon retorted.

"Yeah, just like the evidence showed that it was me who put that potion in my room over the summer," Harry shot back hotly. "It's impressive that you were able to conduct such a _thorough_ investigation in just ninety minutes."

Though Gibbon glared at him, Harry was surprised to see that Dawlish looked a little embarrassed now.

"Fine, go back and tell Fudge and Scrimgeour so they can have an excuse to ignore yet another attempt on my life," the boy said, voice dripping with derision.

He was already making plans as he turned away and began the trek back to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

After he finished writing, Harry took a moment to look over the brief message.

_To my mysterious informant:_

_Thank you for the warning, it was helpful in dealing with Malfoy, though he wasn't the only one targeting me at the game._

_Your terms are acceptable. I will notify you if I hear of anything that may impact the neutral Slytherins, and I will make no effort to identify you._

_Sincerely,  
Harry Potter_

Harry frowned as he looked at that last part. He felt just a touch guilty about lying, as he had absolutely no intention of following through with it. Oh, he would, of course, warn his new associate about anything he learned, but he would still try to determine who it was. He would just be sneaky about it.

Making a mental note to set up the omnioculars and the Marauder's Map to record the activity in the library, he set his first letter aside and began working on a second one. _Veritas_ included requests in each edition for people to contact them with interesting reports, and though he had, of course, already notified Peter of what had happened, it would be wise to have a visible trail so that people didn't suspect his hidden connection with the newspaper.

* * *

Harry smiled as he finished reading the headline article in _Veritas_. Nothing too overt in terms of attacks on the ministry or Dumbledore, but it did raise some questions about the Aurors' effectiveness and Hogwarts' security.

Not surprisingly, other people in Hogwarts were not quite as pleased with what they had read, which is why he found himself in McGonagall's office a few hours later.

"Mister Potter, stories like this have the ability to greatly impact Hogwarts, and as such, it is important that the faculty be consulted before a student goes running off to the newspaper," the Scottish teacher said, nostrils flaring angrily.

"Everything in there is completely true," Harry countered with a smile. "And according to the article, they tried to contact Professor Dumbledore, but he was unavailable. That's not my fault."

The professor was unrelenting. "Regardless, in the future you need to discuss such matters with me first."

Harry just shook his head in amazement. "I had to argue with you for ten minutes to get you to even consider calling in the Aurors to investigate a clear attempt on my life. And now you're more concerned with sweeping it under the rug."

"There was no evidence of foul play," the teacher stated, irritation obvious in her voice.

"The Aurors didn't investigate, they glanced at the broom for a few minutes before finding an excuse that would allow them to blame me for what happened," Harry retorted. "They didn't interview me to see what sort of maintenance I usually perform, and how often. They didn't consult with one of the Nimbus broom designers to determine where the malfunction occurred, and why. Just like the attack over the summer, they went in looking for reasons to blame me."

McGonagall was clearly not convinced by his argument. "Regardless, what happened is not the fault of Hogwarts, and when a newspaper portrays events in such a way as to imply that the faculty is to blame, that causes parents to ask undeserved and unfair question regarding how the school is run," she insisted.

Harry shrugged with deliberate casualness. "If you have a problem with what is written in that paper, you should contact the ones who wrote it. I simply sent them a letter, the text of which you can clearly see in the article. I didn't say anything to imply that this school or the faculty was at all to blame for what happened."

"And yet, because of your letter, many parents are now going to be wondering whether or not their children are safe," McGonagall responded.

"That's not my problem," the younger Gryffindor countered calmly.

* * *

Unfortunately, the next morning, there was another article relating to Hogwarts.

"What's a High Inquisitor?" Dean wondered aloud as he frowned at the Daily Prophet.

Harry looked over at the staff table, where Umbridge was smiling like a cat that caught the canary. He had stopped reading the Prophet some time ago due to their occasional insults and questions regarding his sanity, but there were usually a few copies floating around for people to read in the morning. Seizing an unused paper a few seats down, he skimmed the article quickly. "_Dealing with Hogwarts' 'falling standards'… ensure student safety… provide increased opportunity for students to learn about and interact with the real world…_" he muttered as he read.

"Hem, hem."

Harry and many of the others looked up to see the pink toad was now standing and looking out at the students.

"For those of you who do not have access to the Daily Prophet, the _only_ newspaper which is endorsed by the Ministry of Magic, I am pleased to announce the formation of a new position in the Hogwarts faculty. Specifically, the position of High Inquisitor. Our dear Minister has asked that I serve as the first in that position. My duties will be to ensure that Hogwarts provides for all of you an experience befitting the finest magical school in the world, in terms of not only the quality of your education, but also the level of safety. Due to recent concerns, the Ministry and Wizengamot, with the full support of the Board of Governors, have decided to step in and take a more active role in guiding the education of those who will one day lead our great country."

Students could be heard whispering to each other, but Umbridge wasn't finished.

"To assist me in this role, trustworthy students of third-year and above will have the opportunity to join the newly-formed Inquisitorial Squad. Unlike the prefect positions, there will be no limits or quotas set on who can join this exciting new organization. We will not discriminate on gender, age, house affiliation or blood status. Everyone is welcome to apply to join.

"As a reward for helping the High Inquisitor fulfill her duties in this school, members of the Inquisitorial Squad will have additional opportunities to learn more about our society and interact with prominent members of our community. We will take several trips to the Ministry so that you can gain firsthand experience in how our government functions, as well as a number of businesses."

The unpleasant woman's grin widened as she continued. "Anyone who wishes to join the Inquisitorial Squad is welcome to retrieve an application from my office or ask for one after class. Prospective members will be required to submit a short curriculum vitae and obtain references from at least two adult members of good standing in our community outside of Hogwarts. I hope you all take advantage of this wonderful opportunity to broaden your horizons and gain marvelous new experiences that will help you greatly throughout your lives."

_Great, so now my attacks on Dumbledore have led to my main enemy this year getting even more authority in the school, _he thought bitterly. Harry was not the only student to wonder how much this would change life at Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N – Without the Dementors' cold aura screwing up the local weather system, the storm during the Quidditch game isn't as bad as it was in canon.


	17. Chapter 16: The Defense Tree

Chapter 16: The Defense Tree

Harry looked over the assembled crowd of students, doing his best to stave off the headache that was already beginning to make itself known. _Why did I agree to do this?_ It wasn't the first time he'd asked himself that question, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely certain why he'd finally agreed to Hermione's repeated requests. Sure, there were some reasons. It would help him develop more ties with his fellow students and it would annoy Umbridge if the students that she didn't approve of were to improve more than her chosen favorites, though it would probably be best if she didn't know he was responsible. But still, it would be a lie to say that he was terribly enthusiastic about the whole thing.

But regardless, he was here, so he should do his best. Keeping in mind Peter and Heather's oft repeated warning that people would always be watching and judging him due to his status as a celebrity in the wizarding world, he forced a smile on his face as he walked to the front of the room.

"Good evening, everybody. Thanks for coming," he began. "I'm not quite sure what you're all expecting. To be honest, this wasn't my idea, it was Hermione's. I know she's done a bit of research into how other schools teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, so I'll let her talk to you all for a minute, and then we can figure out what we'll do moving forward."

Deep down, Harry felt just a smidge of satisfaction at the brief look of panic on his friend's face as she walked to the front, but she covered it well.

"Thank you all for coming," she said, echoing Harry's earlier words. "I know that we're all unsatisfied with the level of instruction that we're getting from Umbridge. And while she claims that the extracurricular club is intended to make up for the poor content of her classes, it's very obvious that ensuring we all receive a quality education in defense is not her main priority. As such, as Harry indicated, I have written to the Department of Magical Education. It turns out that there are very well-developed curricula for Defense Against the Dark Arts which are mandatory for all magical schools in Britain except for Hogwarts. I've reviewed these standards briefly, and while they may be a little light on actual spells, they are much better than the content Umbridge is giving us."

"So, what, you'll copy those lesson plans or whatever and we all learn them?" an older boy that Harry didn't recognize asked.

"Well, actually, I though that it would be more effective if Harry were to learn them and then teach us all," Hermione replied.

"I would be willing to help people with the spells that I know," Harry interjected, "but I can't promise that I know all of them."

"You really think a little third year can teach us anything?" another boy scoffed.

Before Harry could reply, Colin Creevey piped up. "He beat Lockhart last year!" the small boy called out.

"And he killed a troll as a first year," Neville added.

"Not to mention kicking those Slytherins' arses when they attacked Hope," a boy in Ravenclaw robes yelled.

While he was grateful for the show of support, Harry didn't want this to devolve into an argument over his abilities. "Like I said, I probably won't know all of the spells, but I am willing to help people learn the spells that I do know. If you would rather, you can learn them on your own, or maybe you can approach one of the teachers. I doubt Umbridge would help you, but maybe one of the others would."

Most of the students looked a bit dubious at that idea, but at least there were no more protests about Harry's qualifications to teach.

"Okay, I'll make copies of the curricula that the DME sent me. I can have them ready for the next meeting," Hermione finished. "Which will be…" She looked over at Harry.

"Friday, same time, same place," he announced quickly, but his focus was elsewhere. Harry studied his friend closely. She now seemed just a little uncomfortable.

"In order to keep track of who is in the group, how many copies of the standards we'll need, and stuff like that, we'll need a list of who is here," Hermione said, fidgeting a little. "And we need to all agree not to tell Umbridge, so if you want to be a part of the group, you need to commit to keep it quiet. So if you do want to participate, sign the list, but you're agreeing not to tell people what we're up to."

Some of the students, such as Fred and George, signed with no hesitation, but not everyone was so quick to comply. Rather, many of the other students were looking noticeably uneasy.

"Hermione, we really shouldn't be signing something like that," Ernie Macmillan said awkwardly.

The girl in question rolled her eyes. "Ernie, do you really think I'm just going to leave it lying around?"

"Well, no," the boy replied lamely. Not seeming to be able to find any other objection, he signed, then left quickly.

None of the other students protested, but Harry could see that some were still a bit anxious about the whole thing.

* * *

Harry suppressed the urge to smile as he glanced over at Hermione. His female friend was glaring so ferociously at the newspaper in front of her that he wondered if she was trying to use accidental magic to set it on fire.

"Something in the paper you don't like, Hermione?" he asked, keeping his voice light as he began to dish up his breakfast.

"Oh, just more proof that magical society is horrendously biased against non-magicals, as if we didn't already know that," the scowling girl replied.

"What is it this time?" Neville inquired as he helped himself to the scrambled eggs.

Hermione's response was to pick up the paper, clear her throat, and begin to read. "_Based on a recent surprising report by noted druidic ritual experts Algernon Mendethanes and Atticus Rosier, the Ministry of Magic has authorized an extensive, on-going study to determine exactly how modern muggle technology detrimentally impacts the ambient magic all around us, frequently referred to by experts as the 'thaumasphere'. This report, compiled from Mendethanes' and Rosier's findings from a small, privately funded study conducted over the past three years, serves as a wake-up call to our society, and in response, the Wizengamot yesterday gave approval for the 'Technological Impact on Magical Equilibrium' or TIME study._

"_While a few misguided members of our community have expressed surprise or even disapproval of this new development, there is wide-spread support for this study among informed citizens. 'It is good that we will finally be taking a close look at just what the so-called non-magical advancements are costing us,' said Mister Lucius Malfoy, 39, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion. 'It is our duty to protect ourselves from harmful influences, even those that may not be readily discernible, and I feel that the TIME study will give us the tools to do just that,' Victor Grey, chairman of the Foundation for the Future, stated in a public address._

"_As part of this study, sensors designed by Mendethanes will be placed in key locations throughout the muggle parts of Britain in order to more accurately measure the harmful effects of technology – the crude and often dangerous machines and other objects which muggles use to compensate for their lack of magic. Minister Fudge was quick to reassure the populace that the TIME study would not be financed by tax galleons. Although it was approved by the Wizengamot, it will be privately funded by donations from concerned citizens and organizations such as the Foundation for the Future."_

Hermione threw the paper on the table with a snarl, not caring that it also hit some of the food on her plate. "I cannot believe that anyone would fall for this sort of ridiculous garbage."

Harry shrugged. "The _Prophet_ writes whatever the ministry tells it," he pointed out. Though he knew it wasn't the best idea, he added, "and you can't say for sure that they're wrong. Non-magical science recognizes that technology can have a negative impact on the environment. Not just because of regular chemical pollution, but because of light and sound pollution as well."

"I cannot _believe_ that you would say something like that," Hermione hissed.

Harry held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I don't support anti-muggle prejudice or blood bigotry, but we won't know if there are harmful effects of technology without a study like this. It doesn't hurt to investigate. Once the findings have been reported, then you can protest the conclusions if you feel there was something invalid about their methods."

An owl landing in front of Harry put an end to the heated discussion. Surprised, Harry opened the small, cylindrical package and found a copy of the newest edition of _The Quibbler_.

ATTACK ON HARRY POTTER!

OUR HERO'S NEAR BRUSH WITH DEATH –

WHO IS BEHIND THESE ATTACKS?

Harry flipped through the pages quickly, skimming the article with a broad smile on his face. _Really going to have to do something nice for Luna,_ he thought as he read. Even with _The Quibbler's _rather limited audience, the article on both attacks, including the irregularities of the trial and the extremely limited investigation, would put the ministry on the defensive. And of course, the allegations in a separate article regarding Auror Gibbon's somewhat less-than-legal actions in covering up a number of crimes against muggles at Lucius Malfoy's behest over the years were just the cherry on top.

* * *

Given the very eccentric design of Hogwarts, with moving staircases, shifting hallways and fake doors, traveling between any two points in the castle was quite a trek. As such, it hadn't been difficult for Harry to adjust his usual paths to pass by Sinistra's office at least once a day to see if his mysterious informant had left a message. But it wasn't until the first Thursday after the Quidditch game that the sign indicating a new message finally appeared.

Harry quickly made his way through the library aisle to where the message was hidden. It had taken some time for him to find the spot when he had left his letter agreeing to his informant's terms, but now that he knew the spot, it took just a moment to reach under the shelf and pull the letter free from the metal lip. Continuing to walk as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, he casually made his way back to the table and slipped the letter into his bag.

After studying for about fifteen more minutes, he finally gathered his materials and walked out of the library, taking the quickest course back to Gryffindor Tower. He bounded up the stairs to the third-year boys' dorm, then paused to double-check that he was alone before opening the letter.

_Potter,_

_Umbridge knows about your DADA group. Don't know what she's planning._

Harry resisted the urge to sigh. _Well, that secret didn't last long,_ he thought bitterly.

* * *

Harry waited until classes were finished before telling Neville and Hermione the news. Fortunately, it wasn't difficult to find a deserted classroom near the tower to use for their discussion.

"Someone must have told Umbridge," Neville said thoughtfully.

"They couldn't have," Hermione protested. "Harry, your source must be wrong. None of the students at the group could have told Umbridge."

There was a note of confidence and finality in Hermione's voice that sent a chill down Harry's back. "Explain," he said, his tone making it clear that this was not a request, it was a demand.

Hermione seemed startled, but relented. "I put a jinx on the parchment. If anyone tries to tell Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

It took a few moments for this statement to sink in. And when it did, Harry was thanking every deity he could think of that he had pulled Hermione and Neville away to this classroom. "You put a jinx on the parchment," he repeated, but where Hermione's voice had been filled with pride and grim satisfaction, Harry's was filled with barely restrained fury. "Circe's eyeball on a stick, Hermione! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we need to keep this a secret from Umbridge," the girl protested, clearly taken aback.

"You don't use magic on people without their permission!" Harry roared.

"Hermione, that's the type of thing that can get you sent to Azkaban," Neville said, much more quietly, but no less emphatically.

"Not to mention, it doesn't keep them from talking. It punishes them if they do, and a punishment only serves as a deterrent if people know about it. Which…" Harry floundered for a minute, gesturing emphatically as he tried to think of the words. "They didn't," he finished.

"What sort of a jinx was it?" Neville asked, a deep frown on his face.

"They'll get pimples spelling out 'SNEAK' on their forehead," Hermione said softly.

It was with a great deal of effort that Harry resisted the urge to hit his head repeatedly against the wall. "The only thing that would do is make it look like we have something to hide," he snarled. "And, yes, we would like to keep it a secret if we can, but we weren't actually breaking any rules until you used magic on other students _without their consent_."

"I was just making sure that nobody would tell Umbridge. They all agreed when they signed that they wouldn't tell her."

"Just because someone promised not to talk about something doesn't mean that it's okay to curse them if they break that promise," Neville pointed out. "What happens if they just talked about it somewhere were someone like Malfoy could overhear? Would that trigger the jinx?"

To Harry's dismay, Hermione frowned in thought, clearly unsure of the answer. "We needed to do something to keep the group a secret," the girl insisted once more.

"Let me make something very clear, Hermione," Harry said, his voice now a dangerous whisper. "You do not get to make decisions like that for me. We've had this discussion before. If you have an idea for something that impacts all of us, then you tell us and listen to our thoughts on the matter as well. Because right now, if someone did tell Umbridge and got hit by that jinx, they would probably blame me as well."

"If the parchment was destroyed, that should eliminate the jinx, provided that it hasn't actually cursed anyone yet," Neville suggested.

"Good idea," Harry said, looking over at Neville appreciatively before turning back to Hermione. "Go get the parchment and bring it back here so we can see you destroy it," Harry commanded, his eyes blazing furiously.

"Or what?" Hermione countered, just as angrily.

"Or I will go and tell Umbridge everything, including the fact that you were the one who put the jinx on the parchment without informing anyone else," Harry thundered, his expression furious.

Hermione stepped back, an expression of shock and hurt on her face as though she had been slapped. "You would… she would… do you realize what she would do to me?"

"Which is why you shouldn't have done it!" Harry exclaimed. "Now go get the parchment."

Still looking hurt, Hermione exited the room quickly.

Harry paced across the small room, breathing deeply as he tried to get his temper under control.

"I cannot believe she did that," he snarled a few minutes later.

Neville gave a non-committal shrug. "Hermione does tend to think that she knows better than anyone else. And a lot of the time she does have good ideas," the fair-haired boy pointed out gently.

"That doesn't give her the right to make decisions that affect us without consulting us first."

"No, it doesn't," Neville agreed. "But I'm not sure that getting angry is the best way to convey that to her."

The door opened, and Hermione entered with the parchment in hand, her eyes on the floor as she held it out to him. Harry felt a momentary surge of guilt, which he forced down ruthlessly.

"Burning it should work, right?" he asked, looking at his two friends, who both nodded. Quickly conjuring a tall stand with an ashtray-like dish on the top, Harry put the parchment in place, then drew his wand. "_Incendio_." Fueled by his anger, the powerful flames shot out even more ferociously than he had expected, quickly consuming the enchanted list. A cleaning charm destroyed any trace that the parchment had ever existed.

"Is there a way to tell if the jinx is gone for good?" Harry asked.

Hermione made no response, her expression still downcast, but Neville shrugged. "Outside of telling Umbridge ourselves in order to test it, I don't think so. But with the parchment gone, there shouldn't be anything still holding the jinx together. I think," he finished, clearly less than confident.

"We'll just have to hope for the best," Harry concluded with a sigh.

He glanced over at Hermione, who had already turned and begun to walk toward the door. For a moment, he was filled with the urge to say something to her, but he just couldn't figure out how to put his thoughts into words. And then the door shut, and it was too late.

* * *

It was no real surprise the next morning when they read in the paper about a new educational degree banning the Hogwarts students from forming groups without the approval of the High Inquisitor. And while Harry had initially been quite ambivalent about the whole idea of the defense group, as he saw the smirk on Umbridge's face at breakfast, he was more determined than ever to push back. He wasn't going to allow her to win on this one.

And as he studied the exact wording of the decree, he had an idea.

"We can change the defense group into a chain," he whispered to the other members of the trio. Well, mostly to Neville. While Hermione was sitting in her usual place next to them, she was picking miserably at her food, something which made Harry feel a little guilty.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"We can't meet in groups of three, but meeting in pairs is fine. So, I teach you and Hermione, but not at the same time." Harry frowned as he tried to think of how to explain it. "You and I meet and I teach you, and then at a different time, I meet with Hermione and teach her. Then you each have two people that you meet with to teach them. Hermione could meet with Susan Bones and Padma Patil, and you might meet with, say, Ernie and Ron, or maybe Terry. Each time, you're just meeting one-on-one, so we're not breaking the rules. And then those people have two others that they teach, and so on. That allows people to set their own schedules and practice for as long as they need to until they learn the spells, and Umbridge can't complain."

"Is little Harrikins finding ways around the mean teacher's rules?" one of the Weasley twins asked as he suddenly sat down in the empty seat to Neville's right, startling the third-years.

"We want in," the other twin added.

Harry quickly explained his idea.

"Ah, so not so much of a chain. More of a tree," the first twin replied with a sage look.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want to call it. Everyone should plan on teaching at least two other people, except for the people at the very bottom of the chain." On seeing the look on the twin's face, he quickly added, "or tree."

"That should work," Angelina Johnson agreed. Harry looked around to see that their little discussion was drawing more and more attention.

"Then spread the word that the meeting tonight is canceled, but we'll get in touch with everyone about this new idea in the next few days," Harry ordered. "But for now, we need to get back to breakfast before anyone gets suspicious."

* * *

After classes, the Gryffindors who were interested in the 'tree of learning' as it had come to be known gathered in the common room, much to Percy's displeasure.

"I should report you all for violating Educational Decree Twenty-Four," he threatened.

"Except that we haven't done anything to violate the decree," Hermione countered quickly. "We are forbidden from meeting regularly, but given that this is the first time we have met, and we intend for this to be the only time that this group gathers, we are in no way disobeying any school rules."

"Not like that would stop you, would it, Percy" a Weasley twin said accusingly.

"You think we didn't see how proud you were when you read about the decree?" his brother continued. "That little smirk you get when you set a new record for how far you've managed to stick your head up someone's arse? You were the one who told Umbridge, weren't you?"

Percy flushed a little, but made no attempt to deny the charge. "As both the Head Boy and a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, it is my duty to assist the High Inquisitor in enforcing the school rules."

"And you just couldn't wait to go running to her," Angelina snarled.

Oliver, of course, had come to a slightly different realization. "It's your fault that the Gryffindor Quidditch team has been disbanded. And now Umbridge is refusing to give us permission to reform!"

Judging by the gasps throughout the room, this was the first most people had heard of this piece of news. Harry wanted to roll his eyes. Yes, he liked quidditch too, but sometimes it was a bit ridiculous how much people obsessed over it. Still, if it made people dislike Umbridge even more, he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Surprisingly, the glares from every corner were enough to cow Percy, who slunk off to one corner to continue studying.

With the distraction gone, Harry brought the group's attention back to the task at hand. "Alright, so I'll teach Fred or George, who will start their own tree to cover fifth and fourth years. I will also teach Neville and Hermione, who will start trees covering third year and down. But don't worry about including Luna Lovegood. I'll teach her personally," he said.

"Why are you working directly with Luna Lovegood?" a twin asked.

"And how do you even know her?" his brother added.

"Her dad's been doing me some favors with getting things published in _The Quibbler_," Harry responded casually. "Now, back on topic, does that plan work for everybody? Any concerns?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Okay, then I'll meet with my people tomorrow. Contact your people, explain the plan, and find a time to meet," he instructed.

As the group split up and went their separate ways, Harry called Fred and George over.

"I need a favor," he said without preamble.

"Name it," one of them replied immediately.

"Can you prank the Slytherins at breakfast on Sunday morning? A big prank, hit them all."

Both boys looked at him in surprise, but Harry just smiled.

* * *

A/N - Sorry for missing last week. I've been making some adjustments to my storyboard for this book, and I needed a little extra time to make sure that I had things figured out the way I want.

Also, this isn't trying to be bashing on Hermione, because I really do like her, but there are plenty of times in canon where she does something a bit questionable (or in a few cases, absolutely outrageous) and nobody says a thing. Case in point, not warning anybody that she put a jinx on the DA list - a jinx so severe that Ministry experts can't figure out how to reverse the effects, and Marietta still showed signs of it months later.


	18. Chapter 17: Fixing Things

Chapter 17: Fixing Things

_I am happy, _Harry thought furiously as he glared at the white mist in front of him. _I am HAPPY!_ But it was no use. Finally, he dropped the spell, and the formless haze quickly dissipated.

Breathing heavily, Harry wiped a hand across his forehead, and was unsurprised to find small beads of sweat had gathered on his brow. He had been working on this for the better part of an hour, but he still hadn't made any progress, a fact that was both maddening and discouraging to the dark-haired teenager.

While Harry had managed to successfully cast most spells he tried, even some that were traditionally taught several years above his age-level, the patronus charm continued to elude him. From what he had read, not only was the charm very demanding in terms of magic, it also included an emotional component that made it even more difficult to cast. Supposedly, to cast it successfully, a person needed to be thinking about a happy memory. The books he had read didn't explain this very well, however, which made things even more difficult considering the fact that, at this point in time, 'happy' wasn't an emotion that Harry had in great supply.

The door opened, and Hermione entered the classroom, a slightly hesitant look on her face.

Harry sighed. After their confrontation the other day, he'd had some time to think about things, and had realized that Neville had been correct. While Hermione had certainly overstepped her bounds, his reaction had been excessive. All the anger and frustration he'd been feeling had finally boiled over, and he'd unleashed it all on the target in front of him. And even though it had felt good to finally let that rage out, since then he'd felt guilty. It was clear that his friend had been deeply hurt by what he had said.

He'd thought about it for quite some time last night, and realized that if their friendship was to continue, he and Hermione needed to clear the air. Of course, it was easy to decide that on his own. Now that he was actually here with her, struggling to figure out how to start, it was a bit more difficult.

"We need to talk," he finally began. He could see the confusion in her eyes, but he pressed on nonetheless. "I'm still a little bit frustrated with you making the decision to curse the list of people for the defense group, but I realize that you thought what you were doing was right, and I am sorry that I lost my temper with you. You didn't deserve to be yelled at like that," he finished, taking a deep breath to help calm his nerves.

Hermione frowned, clearly surprised by his admission, but she responded eventually. "And I apologize for making a decision like that without consulting you," she finally said, her voice soft. "But I still think that it was the right decision. We needed to a way to keep it secret from Umbridge," she added firmly.

"Then you should have said that when we were first discussing the idea," Harry countered, doing his best to stay calm.

"I couldn't be sure that you would take me seriously, given that you tend to be reckless," Hermione argued.

Harry paused, completely taken aback. "Reckless?" he echoed, genuinely confused. "When have I ever been reckless?"

Hermione looked at him as though he had just claimed the sky was bright green. "Harry, you were talking about running away after first year. Second year, you kept playing a meaningless game even after it was clear that one of the bludgers was specifically targeting you, then you challenged Lockhart to a duel long before anyone knew the truth about him. Just this past summer you practically declared war against the Ministry, which is probably the reason that Umbridge is here in the first place."

Harry bit back an angry retort, taking a moment to calm himself and think about Hermione's words before responding. "I can see why you might consider some of those decisions as being reckless," he grudgingly conceded. "But I still think that in most, if not all of those examples, my decisions were perfectly justified. Yes, there might have been some element of risk, but at the same time, there were also potential rewards that made the risk worth it."

"But if you had thought things through, you could have found a better way to achieve that potential reward without the risk," his friend replied.

"Maybe, but not always," Harry said, "and anyways, that's beside the point. They were my decisions to make, not yours. If you think that I am making a poor decision, you may suggest an alternative, but at the end of the day, I choose. You don't get to go behind my back like that."

"I'm not trying to go behind your back, Harry," Hermione argued. "But I'm not just going to do nothing when one of my friends is making a big mistake."

"Hermione, this isn't like tackling me out of the way of an oncoming curse that I don't see," Harry said, his frustration growing. "There was plenty of time for you to voice your concerns and we could have discussed it. You need to accept that my decisions are my own, whether you agree with them or not. And if my choices turn out to be a big mistake, then you can take pleasure in saying 'I told you so'"

"I don't want to say 'I told you so', I want my friend to be safe," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"Well, _your friend_ has the right to make his own choices, even ones that you disagree with. Can you accept that?"

An expression of anger flashed across Hermione's face, then disappeared as she sighed. "Fine. But I will speak up if there is something foolish that you are doing."

"Thank you," Harry said, as graciously as he could. "Now, let's start practicing, since that's what we're here for. The most fundamental skill for defense is being able to cast quickly and accurately. It doesn't matter how many spells you know, if you can't hit your target, you're going to lose. So, we'll start by practicing our accuracy using stinging hexes." He pointed to two lines he had drawn on the floor. "We each stay behind our line, but we can move as much as we want to dodge the other person's attacks. Keep in mind that while you do want to dodge the attack completely, the less you move the better. If you dive out of the way of each spell, it's going to take longer to recover and cast a spell of your own."

Harry walked across the room until he was beyond the line, then turned to look at his friend. "Any questions?"

Hermione shook her head, bringing her wand up to a ready position, the tip pointing not quite at him, but certainly close enough for some rapid spellwork.

Harry smiled. "Begin."

* * *

Harry and Hermione practiced for an hour, after which Harry repeated the exercise with Neville, then with Fred. Or, at least, he thought it was Fred. He still couldn't tell the twins apart, and he wouldn't put it past them to deliberately fake some small personality differences that they altered in order to keep people confused. But, this one seemed to be the slightly more aggressive twin, which he thought was Fred.

And then it was lunch time. Harry suppressed a yawn as he entered the Great Hall. He'd been up late thinking, then had woken early to get some practice of his own in before he met with Hermione. Now, a little afternoon nap was sounding absolutely heavenly. First, however, he had one more person he needed to meet with.

As he made his way to the Ravenclaw table to talk to Luna, Harry frowned as he noticed the blonde girl sitting by herself. She wasn't seated at either end, but there was still a definite and obviously deliberate gap between her and her housemates on either side.

The sight tugged at his heartstrings just a bit. Harry could remember all too well how it felt to be alone. Before Harry had come to Hogwarts, Dudley had done a very good job of chasing away anybody who tried to befriend the bespectacled boy.

His feet were already moving before he had made a conscious decision. Fortunately, it didn't take long for his mind to catch up.

"Hello, Luna," he said brightly as he sat down next to her and began to dish some potato salad onto the plate in front of him.

"Hello, Harry Potter," she replied, seeming to perk up just a bit.

"You know, you can just call me Harry," the boy said.

"But you're really not all that hairy," Luna replied, her expression innocent. "At least, I don't think you are. Do you have a lot of chest hair? Or hair on other places?" She tilted her head to one side, gazing at him curiously.

"I… no." Harry was caught off guard but rallied quickly, frowning as he looked at her with mock suspicion. "Are you pranking me?"

"Would I do something like that?" Luna responded, her face serene though her eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"Apparently you would," Harry said as he pretended to glare at her. "So, how are things going for you this year?" he asked.

"Pretty well," his friend replied, a small frown crossing her face. "Did I tell you about the expedition to Sweden to find the Crumple-horned Snorcack?"

"I think you mentioned something about that when your dad interviewed me over the summer," Harry replied uncertainly, face contorting as he tried to remember.

"Well, we did go, but we didn't find anything. That's a little disappointing, but it was still a fun experience. We had some amusing adventures, as always. I don't know if you noticed this, but Daddy can be just a little absentminded at times, which can lead to some strange experiences, but we made it back safe and sound, and that's what counts."

"That's a good attitude to take," Harry said. "But, still, I imagine it's a bit disappointing that you didn't find what you were looking for."

Luna shrugged. "Maybe we'll have better luck next year. Of course, with the Quidditch World Cup being held here next summer, I'm not sure if we'll be able to go on one of our normal trips, but I hope so."

Harry looked at her quizzically. "So, do you always go on trips to look for new animals?"

"Not just animals," Luna replied quickly. "There's all sorts of new things waiting to be discovered, or old things that have been forgotten and are now waiting to be found. For example, have you ever heard of the Gate of Avalon?" she asked enthusiastically.

Harry shook his head.

"It was a fortress guarding the only entrance to Avalon, but it was conquered by attackers using armored dragons," Luna recounted, her voice whispery and mysterious. "We know that it existed from numerous records, but no one has ever found it. Based on one of the accounts, Dad came up with the theory that it was actually underground. We spent the summer before I started Hogwarts exploring many old caves throughout the country looking for it, and though we didn't actually find the fortress itself, we did find some clues that show we're on the right track."

"Wow," Harry said after a moment. "That sounds really cool. I have to admit that looking for new animals doesn't seem that exciting, but trying to find an old castle would be lots of fun." He wasn't exaggerating, either. _That really would be interesting. Maybe I'll see if I can go with them some time in the future._

"So, tell me more about some of your travels," Harry requested as he helped himself to a chicken sandwich.

Luna was happy to oblige.

* * *

Lunch passed quickly, with Luna doing most of the talking and Harry just adding a bit of commentary here and there, and soon they were both finished.

"So, Luna, since we can't meet as a group to learn defense anymore, we figured things out so that we meet in partnerships to practice the skills. I'm teaching Hermione, Neville and Fred Weasley, then they teach other people, and those people teach other people, and so on. But I was hoping to work with you personally. Do you want to learn DADA from me?"

Luna frowned. "Would that mean that I would have to teach someone else?" she inquired.

"You can if you want to, but you don't have to," Harry responded.

Luna sighed, then nodded. "Then I would like to learn from you, but it's probably best that I don't teach others. Most people don't seem to take me seriously. They sometimes call me Loony, so I doubt that they would be interested in learning from me."

One of the things Harry had realized early on was that Luna had a tendency to be shockingly blunt about many things that most people would be hesitant to speak of, which often left him feeling a bit awkward as he tried to find some way to respond.

"Well, they're not going to call you that when I'm around," he promised. "I don't let people insult my friends."

He pretended not to see the way Luna smiled shyly, or mouthed the word 'friends'.

"So, how about if we meet each Saturday right after lunch?" he suggested. "We can start today."

Luna beamed at him. "That sounds great."

The pair exited the Great Hall and began to walk toward the classroom Harry had commandeered. As they approached the main staircase, Harry took the opportunity to glance down the hall toward the picture of Humprey the Huguenot, and was dismayed to see that the halberd was still turned so that the spike pointed toward the main staircase.

_Does that mean that my informant still hasn't seen my message? _His Slytherin correspondent had previously turned the halberd back to its normal position to show that the message had been received. But if the message was still waiting to be read, he might need to tell Fred and George to cancel the prank for tomorrow. After all, the whole point was to prove to his secretive partner that Harry had things to contribute. Slytherins were, after all, ambitious, so it was unlikely that his informant was taking the risk of warning Harry about Malfoy and Umbridge's plans purely out of the good of his or her heart. Warning about a prank was a good way to pay for the information Harry had received. Or, at least, it would be so long as his mysterious new friend actually got the warning.

Suppressing the urge to growl in frustration that his plan, which had seemed so clever yesterday when he came up with it, was now falling apart, he turned his attention back to Luna, asking more about the foreign countries she had visited.

* * *

After his lesson with Luna was finished, Harry returned to the Gryffindor dorms for a quick nap. He awoke feeling refreshed, and took a few more minutes to just relax and appreciate the silence, which was quite rare in a dorm with five boys. The sunlight streaming in from the window was already beginning to fade as the sun set, giving the room a soft glow, the beds casting deep shadows across the walls.

Finally, Harry sat up with a sigh. A glance at his watch revealed that supper would be starting soon. As he got dressed, Harry glanced over at the journal lying on the nightstand next to his bed. To his surprise, he had found that he enjoyed keeping a record of what was happening in his life. It was a good way for him to vent his frustrations without worrying about losing face in front of his fellow students, or even worse, looking like an angry little boy in front of his employees.

Now, however, his attention was drawn to the small black diamond on the spine. Normally, that symbol was just an outline. Now, however, the shape was solid, indicating a new message from Peter.

With a frown, Harry grabbed the book and flipped it open to page seven.

_Connor and Chad made something for you._

_Can you meet in the usual place in Hogsmeade_

_tomorrow morning at six?_

Harry frowned in confusion, trying to think about what the two resident mad geniuses might have made. Nothing came to mind, so he would just have to wait until the next morning to find out.

_I'll be there, _he scrawled in the journal, then pressed the icon to send the message. Quickly reactivating the privacy measures so that the page would seem to others like a non-descript diary entry, he placed the journal back on the nightstand and began to make his way to the Great Hall.

* * *

Dinner was in full swing by the time he arrived, but he quickly sat down and began to fill his plate with the delicious-looking food.

"You're looking much more awake, Harry," Neville commented.

"Yeah, it's amazing what a good nap will do for you," Harry responded with a grin. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing much. Just a big argument between Percy and the other Weasleys," Hermione said drily.

Harry scoffed. "Still fighting, huh? What was it about this time?"

"Same old, same old," Neville said. "Apparently, the Inquisitorial Squad took a trip to the ministry today to meet some of the movers and shakers in the political world. When he got back, Percy made some comments about how it was nice to have the opportunity to break away from his father's reputation and show people that not all Weasleys were like him."

Harry took a quick breath, cringing. "That's harsh. I can't imagine his siblings liked hearing that." Mister Weasley may not have been Harry's favorite person, being too much of a supporter of Dumbledore for Harry's liking, but he was still a nice man, and one who was (as far as Harry had seen) always kind and loving towards his children. He certainly wasn't deserving of such criticism from Percy.

"They did not like hearing that at all," Hermione concurred emphatically. "I have a feeling the twins are going to make him regret saying that over the next few weeks."

"Or the next few months. Or years," Neville added in a soft voice.

Harry frowned as a thought came to mind. He glanced over at the Slytherin table, where Draco was seated, a proud smirk on his face. But it wasn't Draco that Harry was interested in this time. His gaze wandered up and down the table, wondering how many of them had gone on that trip.

When dinner finished, Harry excused himself and quickly made his way to the library, taking a slight detour that led past Humphrey the Huguenot, where he was pleased to see that the halberd had been turned once more. When he got to the library, he casually strolled down the aisle where he had left the message, checking just to ensure that it had been received.

Suppressing the smile that threatened to appear on his face, Harry continued on the DADA section, selecting one of the books and took it to a nearby chair. His thoughts were on something else entirely, however.

_So, my informant is on the Inquisitorial Squad. That's interesting._

* * *

Harry woke early, glancing over to ensure that none of the other occupants in his dorm were up yet. On a Sunday morning there wasn't much risk of that, but better to be safe than sorry.

Climbing under his invisibility cloak, Harry crept out of the room and down the stairs, then out of the common room. It technically wasn't against the rules for him to leave the dorms this early, but he would like to avoid the faculty if possible.

He exited the massive castle and began to jog toward Hogsmeade, grateful that he had resumed exercising with Neville in the mornings on school days. Of course, if he still had his trusty Nimbus it would have made things even easier, but the latest attempt on his life had put paid to that. And though he could have simply grabbed one of the brooms from Timeland, that was one risk that Harry didn't want to take. If he was seen with a broom, people like Dumbledore would start asking questions Harry would prefer not to answer.

Of course, he would need to get a new broom soon, assuming that the Gryffindor team ever received permission to reform. He frowned as that thought crossed his mind. According to Ron, the Nimbus 2001 did have several key improvements over the 2000 model that he had owned. But, that would mean riding the same kind of broom as _Malfoy_, and that just wasn't something Harry could accept.

There was that new broom company that had made such a stir over the summer, he realized. He'd have to give it some more thought, but maybe a Firebolt would be a good replacement for his dearly departed Nimbus.

By the time he arrived, Harry was breathing heavily, and his forehead was wet with sweat despite the cold November morning. His watch showed that he was about ten minutes early, but to his surprise, Peter appeared just a few minutes after he arrived.

"So, what's this mysterious present?" Harry asked.

Peter held out a wooden cube, a little larger than a foot on each edge with what looked like a door on one side. Harry accepted the object, turning it over in his hands as he studied it closely, even opening the door to see that it was empty inside.

"Alright, I give up. What is it?" the boy finally asked.

Peter grinned. "You are holding the very first Vanishing Cabinet produced by our organization. We've got its mate back at the office," he said proudly. "We can use them to pass papers back and forth so that you can have an easier time keeping up to date with what we're doing."

To say that Harry was astounded would be an understatement. "They can make matching Vanishing Cabinets?" The shock in his voice was clear.

"The theory behind vanishing cabinets actually isn't that complicated," Peter replied with a nod. "The difficulty is in getting them to match up. The way it's done is by using what's called a linking plate, where two pieces of wood are carved with identical rune sequences so they have the same magical signature. The sequences are very complicated, so even a master rune-carver can require hundreds or even thousands of tries before they finally get a match. Chad and Connor found a way to carve those linking plates with computer-controlled machinery, making it much easier to get a match."

"So, they can make them match every time?" Harry asked.

"No," Peter answered. "It took about two dozen tries to get a match, and the plates that finally did form a pair had some small differences, such that some of the other plates should have been a closer match. Clearly, there's something else going on that they don't understand yet, but given the greater chance of forming a pair and the greater ease of producing the plates, this is a big step forward. They're going to continue working on it, but just this one development is incredible."

"Yeah, I'll say," Harry muttered, still amazed. "I've been meaning to find a time to retrieve that cabinet we left down in the Chamber of Secrets, but if we can just make our own…"

"Eventually we should see about forming a company to sell products like this," Peter suggested. "There would be a good market for it, and if people learn that we can use non-magical technology to help make complex magical goods, that might help to combat some of the prejudice that plagues the magical world."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. We'll hold off for now, but after things finish up with the foundation, I think something like that could be very beneficial."

"I agree," Peter said. "This week I'll send you copies of the reports everyone has made. Michelle, in particular, has some stuff that you should read. More of Riddle's history, Dumbledore's history, information about that muggleborn advocacy group, Equitas, lots of good stuff. I think you'll find it… illuminating."

"I look forward to it," Harry responded. "Anything else to report?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Hopefully over the Christmas break you can to the office and see some of the things we've been working on in person, but, for now, everything is going fine," Peter said.

"Then I'll head back to the castle," Harry replied, then gestured down to the box in his arms. "And thanks for this. It'll make things a lot easier."

* * *

A few hours later, Harry couldn't help but smile as indignant shrieks from the Slytherins filled the Great Hall. Students in the house of serpents might be proud of their affiliation, but they weren't nearly as enthusiastic about the green skin, silver hair and forked tongues Fred and George had given them.

By curious coincidence, however, many of the girls from the younger years were a little late to breakfast that morning, and thus escaped the prank.

* * *

Harry was unsurprised to see the signal indicating a new message later that afternoon. There were few enough people in the library when he entered that he hardly bothered with secrecy. Grabbing the letter from its hiding place as he also selected a history book to cover his trip down that aisle, he made himself comfortable in one of the padded wingback chairs and read the note.

_Potter,_

_Thank you for the warning about the prank. I'm pleased to see this partnership is working out. And now I would like to offer you a warning in return. Malfoy was not pleased with the latest edition of The Quibbler. Keep an eye on Lovegood. I think he intends her some harm._


	19. Chapter 18: The Firebolt

Chapter 18: The Firebolt

To Harry's surprise, Luna did not seem overly concerned by the idea that she might be attacked. "After all, that's why you're teaching me to defend myself, right?" the cheerful blonde had explained with a smile.

"Still, I'd rather you not be attacked at all," Harry objected. "You'd think Malfoy would have learned his lesson after what happened the last time he attacked someone."

Luna's face scrunched up in thought. "It's possible that his father arranged for him to see a mind healer."

"A mind healer?" Harry asked. "Like a therapist or a counselor?"

"I'm not sure what those are," Luna confessed. "But I don't think so. A mind healer is someone particularly skilled in the mental art of legilimency who helps people overcome trauma by dampening their memories of the event."

Harry was shocked. "You mean, they made him forget about being tortured by Justice?"

"He likely remembers the details of what happened," Luna replied, shaking her head, "but the actual experience has probably been… muted, so to speak. Like reading about something that happened to someone else as opposed to remembering the sheer terror and panic that he felt that night."

Harry glanced sharply over at Luna. Thanks to his clever use of Timeland, very few people knew that the torture had occurred at night. Almost everyone thought that it had been during the day, which had been the key to the successful defense of the students who had been accused of his crime. _So, did Luna just misspeak, or does she know more than she lets on?_ Unfortunately, there was no good way to ask her.

"Well, be careful," Harry instructed the girl. "I don't like it when my friends get hurt. I'll try to keep an eye on Malfoy, and you're always welcome to join me in the library or, really, anytime outside of class."

"Thank you, Harry, that's very nice," Luna said, beaming.

* * *

As he exited the classroom after another excellent lesson on Care of Magical Creatures, Harry's mind was racing with ideas. Given that Dumbledore had required Harry take the class to limit what he learned (or, at least, that's what Harry assumed) it was quite ironic that an innocuous remark from Professor Grubbly-Plank would lay the foundation for what Harry hoped would allow him to accumulate the wealth he would need to change Magical Britain for good. _Probably not what Dumbles meant for me to learn_, the dark-haired teen thought with a grin.

Making his excuses to Hermione, Harry raced back to the dorm, which would hopefully be empty at this time of day. A quick check showed that his assumption had been correct, and he wasted no time pulling the communicator out of his pocket.

"Connect to Peter," he said clearly, and the magical headset began to ring.

Peter answered almost immediately. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry quickly replied. "I just got out of creatures, and the teacher said something that gave me an idea that I wanted to run past you." He paused, both to take a breath and to gather his thoughts. "But first, just to confirm, making a pair of matching vanishing cabinets that are larger than normal would not be any more difficult than making a small cabinet like the one you gave me, right?"

There was some confusion in Peter's voice when he finally answered. "You're right, as I understand it, that shouldn't be any more difficult."

"In class, Grubbly-Plank made the comment that when managing creature farms, it can be very useful to consider time to be another resource that should be considered when making decisions. It was in relation to something with Jobberknolls, but I don't really remember what, because I was too busy with this idea. Thanks to my parents' notes on Timeland, we know how to make a facility that is consistently experiencing accelerated time. And with Chad and Connor's discovery, we can make the equipment needed to travel in and out of that facility with ease."

Peter made a soft 'hmm' sound. "So, if we had some sort of automated production facility, we could manufacture items for sale much more quickly than normal." He paused for a moment, and Harry could almost hear him frown. "It could be advantageous in some circumstances, but I'm not sure that it would be worth the expense needed to not only build the facility but also to figure out how to make it completely automated. After all, we couldn't expect employees to shorten their lives by spend long periods of time in the facility."

"I know manufacturing technomancy products was our original idea for making more money, but this is actually separate from that," Harry clarified. "What about a farm, raising self-sufficient creatures? All we would need to do is send in food every so often and the creatures would grow to maturity in just a fraction of the time that it would normally take."

There was a long pause. "That… could really work," Peter said slowly, obviously thinking hard about the idea. "Like you said, the animals would need to be self-sufficient, and the fact that they would be stuck in an enclosed facility might limit what type of creatures we could use. Hippogriffs, for example, probably wouldn't do well if they were kept trapped in a small room. But there are a number of creatures that probably could be raised in those sorts of conditions without any issues."

"I already had an idea for the creature we could raise, although there would be some complications," Harry informed his friend. "What about basilisks? The one in the Chamber of Secrets was fine on its own for centuries, and we made a lot of money from just the one. If we were able to set up the enchantment so that time passed hundreds of times faster inside the facility, we could have a centuries-old basilisk ready for sale in just a year."

"We'd have to build the facility outside of the country," Peter pointed out, though it was clear that he supported Harry's suggestion. "In fact, it would need to be outside of Europe, since the ban on breeding basilisks comes from the ICW. But if we went to a country outside of ICW control, that might work. We could look at some place in East Asia, or perhaps South America."

"So, this idea could work, right?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, this could certainly work," Peter replied enthusiastically. "It's an absolutely brilliant idea. In fact, there are ways that we could bring in a steady stream of money rather than just a lump sum every year. If we could train the basilisks to bite something that collects their venom, we would have a product that could be harvested and sold during the entire year, which would be very beneficial from a business perspective."

Harry frowned. "Isn't basilisk venom incredibly dangerous? I don't like the idea of selling something that is going to be used to kill someone."

Peter chuckled. "A good chunk of the money we made from the basilisk we sold came from the venom, but don't worry about it being used to kill someone. Just the opposite, actually. Basilisk venom is most often used as an extremely effective cure for a number of life-threatening magical diseases like scrofungulus. It costs something like 80 galleons a drop. Anyone who was willing to use such an expensive way to kill someone could find another way if they really wanted. So, no, selling the venom means you will actually be saving lives."

"I'm a little confused how a deadly venom could be used to heal someone, but that can wait for another time," Harry said as he glanced over at the door. "I can't talk for too long, so is there anything else we would need to discuss?"

"Just a few things," his friend replied. "I'll start looking at options for where we could build the facility and get an estimate of the price. I assume it's alright for me to bring Chad and Connor in on this idea? I'd like them to being learning about time compression fields to see if there is anything we need to know."

"Yes, let's keep the details of how it works to people that have signed a contract, but you can tell anyone on the team that you think needs to know," Harry said.

"Great. I also wanted to talk about that monitoring charm that Brian Williams transferred to the necklace you wear," Peter began.

Harry frowned. He'd pretty much forgotten about it, and found himself wondering why Peter was bringing it up.

"I realized that if you're going to be sneaking out of Hogwarts, it would be best to leave the necklace behind so that you can't be tracked. In fact, we really should have thought of that earlier. But I know that Brian said that if the talisman is separated from you by more than a few dozen yards, the charm will break, so I spoke with him, and he thinks that if you leave the charm in a small bowl with some of your blood, that should be enough to sustain the magic for a day or two."

"That's good to know," Harry replied. "When I come in over Christmas break I'll be sure to do that. Anything else?"

"Just wanted to know if you'd made a decision about what kind of broom you want. I could buy it for you and send it to you as an anonymous present from a fan," Peter suggested.

Harry thought for a moment. "Let's go for a Firebolt," he finally decided. "It's expensive, but I've got plenty of money, and if this time compression farm idea works out, there will be lots more coming in as well." He deliberately didn't mention that part of his decision was also based on the look of jealousy that he could easily imagine on Malfoy's face. _It'd serve that blonde wanker right._

"Okay, I'll get that taken care of," Peter promised. "And that's everything I wanted to talk about."

"Great, thank you."

* * *

As Harry had hoped, Luna soon became a common fixture in their little group. She often sat with Neville, Hermione and him in the library, the fact that she was a year behind them not causing any problems. She focused on her homework while the other three did theirs, an arrangement which worked well for everyone, though Harry and Neville often ended up sharing grins at how quickly her occasional comments about undiscovered animals could drive Hermione to distraction.

Not that Hermione was the only one occasionally frustrated by the current situation. Harry was quite irritated to discover that Malfoy seemed to have learned something about subtlety and discretion. Harry could often see the blond boy loitering about, presumably hoping to find a time when Luna was alone, but he never did anything overt – just glanced in their general direction every so often.

Finally, Harry had had enough. "Luna, I really hate to do this, but why don't we have you leave early today and we can see if Malfoy follows you. I'll be right behind him so that he can't do anything to you," he quickly promised, "but if he does plan to attack you, it would be better that we deal with it now."

"Oh, you want to use me as bait," Luna replied cheerfully.

"Well… yes," Harry finally admitted, once more cringing at Luna's tendency to be shockingly blunt about delicate topics.

"Okay," the blond girl said as she gathered her books and other possessions into her bag and walked out without another word.

"Do you really think Malfoy's going to attack her?" Neville asked, a little skeptically.

Harry shrugged. "That's what my secretive new friend thinks," he replied.

"And you're really okay with not knowing who it is?" Hermione asked. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"I promised I wouldn't try to identify them," he said, hoping that she didn't notice he hadn't actually answered the question. While he had told his friends about his informant, he hadn't mentioned that he was using omnioculars and the Marauder's Map to keep track of everyone who went down that particular aisle in the library at a time when a new note appeared. Cross-referencing that list with members of the Inquisitorial Squad and people who had avoided the prank on Sunday left just a few suspects. With any luck, he would have an answer soon.

That train of thought was interrupted by Neville's warning. "Malfoy just left," his friend said softly.

"Keep an eye on my stuff," he instructed his friends as he grabbed his wand and walked swiftly toward the door. Pausing for a moment to cast a notice-me-not charm on himself, he followed the blonde Slytherin, not surprised to see the two gorillas were accompanying Malfoy.

As he stalked quietly after the Slytherin students, Harry was amused when he realized that both he and Malfoy seemed to have two people they spent most of their time with. _I wonder if anyone ever calls them the 'silver trio'_, he thought as he remembered the times he had overheard people referring to his group as the 'golden trio'.

He pushed these thoughts out of his head and focused on the task at hand as his targets began to pick up speed. Ahead, Malfoy turned down one of the side corridors, and Harry raced to catch up. He had almost arrived when he heard his enemy yelling.

"You think you can make up lies like that in that garbage pile you call a newspaper without being punished?" the pale boy shouted.

As he peered around the corner, Harry was unsurprised to see the three boys surrounding Luna, though only Malfoy had his wand in hand. Of course, given Crabbe and Goyle's almost complete lack of ability with spellcasting, they were probably more dangerous with just their fists.

"If you consider _The Quibbler_ to be a garbage pile, why are you concerned with what claims we may have made?" Luna asked fearlessly.

Malfoy sputtered for a moment. "You're going to pay for what you said," he vowed as he raised his wand.

Harry had heard enough. "_Expelliarmus_," he called as he stepped around the corner. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand, and all three Slytherins turned in shock. The two larger boys charged at Harry, but he quickly incapacitated them with stunners.

"Malfoy, I'm going to make this very, very clear," Harry said as he walked casually toward the panicking boy. "If anything happens to Luna, I will hold you responsible, and I will make whatever Justice did to you seem like a fond memory." He had finally arrived within reach of the blond boy, and Harry took the opportunity to grab him by the front of his robes and pull Malfoy close so that they were almost nose to nose. "Is that understood?"

Malfoy nodded frantically. So close to his supposed nemesis, Harry was reminded of how much of a difference the months he had spent in Timeland made. By now he was probably about two and half years older than he should be. He was a good five or six inches taller than Malfoy, and outweighed the other boy by at least forty pounds, all of it solid muscle, in stark contrast to the spoiled brat in front of him who had probably never exercised a day in his life.

"Good," Harry said as he released the other boy's robe. "Don't forget it. I won't," he added ominously. A lazy wave of his wand revived the other Slytherins. "Get out of here."

The three boys were almost tripping over themselves in their haste to comply.

* * *

Harry was unsurprised when he was given detention for, as Umbridge put it, 'spellcasting in the halls and interrupting a civil discussion'. Though it was, of course, ridiculous that he was punished while Malfoy and his goons were not, it was a small price to pay if it meant that Luna was safe. Harry was surprised, however, when he learned that rather than serving the detention with the toad-like teacher, his punishment would instead by overseen by Professor Flitwick.

_Is he trying to help me out because he knows I was protecting someone from his house?_ Harry pondered this idea for some time, but there was no way to tell. Flitwick himself didn't give any clues on the matter, simply greeting Harry neutrally when he arrived each evening and began working on the lines he had been assigned.

His punishment lasted two weeks, and the Christmas holidays were just around the corner. Gryffindor's Quidditch team, having finally received permission to re-form, had resumed practice three days a week under the direction of their fanatical captain, though Harry wasn't really sure what purpose his attendance served given that he didn't have a broom. He was stuck using one of the school's communal Shooting Stars, which, despite what the name might imply, were about the slowest thing that he could imagine. At times, Harry debated the merits of strapping a fan to his back to provide a little extra propulsion, and, of course, Oliver's increasingly frequent queries about when Harry would get a new broom only increased his frustration. He couldn't admit that he was expecting to get a Firebolt for Christmas, obviously, as that would ruin the whole 'surprise gift from an anonymous fan' plan that he and Peter had come up with to hide the resources Harry had available outside of his Gringotts vault, which was under Dumbledore's control.

As if long hours of Quidditch practice weren't enough, many of the teachers were taking advantage of the upcoming break to assign extra homework, but that wasn't what Harry was focused on. Instead, he was frowning as he poured over a list of names and dates.

The reason for his somewhat disgruntled state was that a new message had been left for him in the library, and not one of his suspects had gone anywhere near the aisle.

_Does she have another way to get messages into that aisle? A house-elf, maybe?_ He paused to contemplate this possibility for a while before something else occurred to him. _My assumption that my informant is female comes from the fact that the only ones to dodge the Weasley's prank were girls from the lower years. But perhaps the informant warned others but deliberately allowed him or herself to be hit to allay suspicion. So, it could be a boy after all._

Harry sat up in shock as another possibility crossed his mind. _Or is my informant actually two people?_ To be honest, Harry was surprised that it had taken this long to consider that option. _In fact, the informant wouldn't have to explain what he or she is up to. They could instead rely on a trusted friend to leave the message in the appropriate place even without telling them everything._

With this new thought in mind, he examined the lists once more.

* * *

"Hey Neville," Harry began. "I have a very random question that I would prefer you not think too much about why I am asking it."

Neville blinked a few times, clearly confused. "Okay," the other boy said slowly, still giving Harry a strange look. "I promise not to wonder why you are asking the question."

"What do you know about Daphne Greengrass?" Harry asked.

Neville frowned, clearly not having expected that question. "Umm, she's actually a pretty nice girl, though she tends to act kind of cold and uncaring." The blond Gryffindor frowned. "Or, at least, she used to be a nice girl. I don't really know her that well. We were kind of friends when we were younger, but then we… weren't."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Neville looked very uncomfortable. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," he assured his friend.

Neville shrugged. "No, it's fine," he responded in a deliberately casual voice. "I do know that her cousin was a Death Eater, but he was quite a bit older than her, so that's not… incriminating or anything. To be honest, I imagine that most purebloods had at least one close relative on each side of the war."

Harry considered admitting that he suspected Greengrass was his Slytherin informant (her close friend Tracey Davis having been one of the very few people who had traversed that particular aisle during the time when the latest note had been left) but ultimately decided against it.

"Thanks," he said simply.

* * *

Classes ended the next day, and all the students (with the possible exception of Hermione, or Percy Weasley, whose nose had been charmed a very distinctive shade of brown by his brothers' latest prank) were looking forward to two blissful weeks without school. A blanket of white had settled over the grounds, and students took advantage of the free time to hold a rousing snowball fight. Dozens of students joined in, and soon, the stalwart forces of Fort Gryffindor were engaged in a bitter battle with their rivals from across the field, the loyal disciples of Hufflepuff Citadel.

Even with the aid of warming and drying charms, the participants were tired and cold in the end, but everyone had had a good time. This, of course, didn't stop Harry or the others from taking advantage of Hogwarts' unlimited supply of hot water as they soaked in the showers for the better part of an hour.

When they finally climbed into their beds, the boys all drifted off to sleep quickly.

* * *

Harry woke the next morning to see that Neville was already up and was gathering a few items that he would be taking home for the Holidays.

"Looking forward to going home?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, sort of," Neville responded noncommittally. "To be honest, a few weeks at home with just my Gran isn't all that great compared to being here with friends and other people my age, but there's some… traditions that I wouldn't want to miss, so it's okay."

Despite his curiosity, Harry could tell that whatever Neville was referring to was both private and sensitive. "Well, I hope you have a good time," he said genuinely. "Ready for breakfast?"

* * *

The days passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, Christmas had come. Ron Weasley, who had stayed at Hogwarts with his brothers, had not hesitated to wake Harry up by throwing a pillow at him. "Presents, Harry!" the boy exclaimed.

Harry sat up, stretching as his mouth opened uncontrollably in a massive yawn. Suddenly, the realization that his Firebolt was in the pile of presents at the foot of his bed flashed through his mind, and he shot out of bed. He'd been looking forward to this for weeks.

Knowing that as soon as he held the new broom, he wouldn't be able to focus on any of the other presents, Harry decided to set the long, thin package that undoubtedly held his Firebolt aside for last. He set to the task at hand with gusto, carefully keeping track of each present and who had sent it so that he could be sure to thank them.

Most of the presents were the usual. Candy was the most common, though there was also a fair assortment of Quidditch memorabilia, a few articles of clothing, and even a book. What made it even more shocking was that the book was not from Hermione. It was from Luna. Harry picked it up and studied it closely. Though it was clearly very old, it was in excellent condition, obviously having been cared for.

"The Merlinian Discourses," he read softly as he rubbed a finger over the gold letters on the cover. For some reason, that name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Her enclosed note had explained that she had noticed his interest in the Gate of Avalon, and thought he might be interested in this. Harry smiled. It was nice of his new friend to pay such close attention. The postscript that she also thought this would help him fulfill his destiny left him scratching his head a little, though.

And finally, it was time to open the last present. As he pulled the wrapping paper a side, Harry couldn't help but suck in a deep breath of appreciation at his first sight of the sleek, beautifully polished broomstick.

"Whuzzat, 'Arry?" came Ron's muffled voice, his mouth full of candy.

At this moment, the door opened, and Hermione entered.

"Merlin, Hermione, don't you knock?" the redheaded boy protested. "What if we were naked?"

"I could hear you talking," the girl replied, rolling her eyes. "So unless you routinely hold conversations in the nude, it was obviously fine to come in."

Harry forced himself not to point out that it would still be polite. While he and Hermione had managed to put their fight behind them, that didn't mean that everything had gone back to how it was. There was still some tension in the air between them, and he didn't want to get into a fight, especially on Christmas.

"To answer your question Ron, it's… well, it's a Firebolt."

There was a moment of silence as Ron looked over at him, eyes wide. "A Firebolt? A _Firebolt_? The broom _Quidditch Weekly_ declared as being the single greatest development in broom design since the addition of padding charms on the seat? That Firebolt?"

"That Firebolt," Harry agreed.

"Who sent it to you?" Hermione asked, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

"The note just said it was a fan who had heard that I lost my other broom," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said breathlessly. "A real Firebolt!"

Hermione did not look so excited. Instead, if Harry judged correctly, she was quite nervous. "This is a really expensive broom, right?"

"It probably cost more than all the Slytherin team's brooms together," Ron crowed.

"And whoever sent it made no attempt to identify himself or herself?" Hermione continued.

"Nope," Harry said, holding the note for her to see. "It just says 'a fan'. I guess someone out there really likes me."

"Or they really hate you," Hermione countered, her voice a little shrill. "Harry, did it occur to you that this could be another attempt on your life?"

Harry froze. _How did we miss that?_ Of course, without being able to explain that he actually knew where it came from, he would be unable to explain why was unconcerned about Hermione's suggestion.

"Nobody would sent an expensive broom as part of a plot to kill someone," Ron stated definitively.

"The ingredients for that potion weren't cheap either, but they deliberately used that to try to kill him," Hermione argued.

Harry tuned out the bickering as he tried to think of a good solution to this problem.

"Harry, you need to tell Professor McGonagall. They can check it over to make sure that it hasn't been tampered with," Hermione said urgently.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, though, he had to admit that Hermione did have a point. If it really had been anonymous, that would be extremely suspicious.

His eyes turned to the broom once more, and he noticed a detail he had forgotten before. "Every Firebolt has an identification number on the shaft," he said, thinking quickly. "They should be able to track it and find out where it was purchased. The wrapping paper was Quidditch-themed, so it was probably shipped directly from Quality Quidditch Supplies. If that is the case, there wouldn't have been any opportunity to tamper with it."

Hermione was unconvinced. "I still think that you should tell Professor McGonagall."

"Well, I don't think I should," Harry responded firmly.

Hermione glared at him before turning and walking out of the dorm.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The Christmas feast was fantastic, as always, and soon Harry was back in Gryffindor Tower, in high spirits after stuffing himself with delicious food.

That good mood, however, did not last for long.

Harry had agreed to play a few games of chess with Ron, and they had appropriated one of the tables in the common room and were just beginning their first game when McGonagall entered the room, looking even more severe than usual.

"Mister Potter, I understand that you have received a new broom," she said, her eyes fixed on him. "May I ask where it is?"

"May I ask why you care?" Harry responded, trying to control his anger. _Hermione!_

"A broom is an unusually expensive gift to receive out of the blue, Mister Potter. Given the recent attempts on your life, we need to inspect it to ensure that it is safe."

Ron had evidently reached the same conclusion as Harry, for he turned his head to glare at the bushy-haired girl. "I can't believe you told her!"

"I didn't!" Hermione shot back.

"No, she didn't," the professor agreed. "Though she should have. Actually, Mister Weasley, I overheard you entreating Mister Potter to allow you to ride on his new broom."

Harry smiled tightly. "Regardless, Professor, there is no need for the faculty to get involved. I have already written a letter to Quality Quidditch Supplies asking if they can track how the broom arrived here, if there was any opportunity for someone to sabotage it, and if they have any experts who can examine it just to be sure."

"That is good of you to be careful, Mister Potter, but you are a student at this school and Professor Dumbledore is your rightful guardian. We need to examine it personally to ensure that it is safe," McGonagall replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Harry groaned. _Well, it'll take a few days to get a reply back from QQS, and by that time McGonagall and Dumbledore will have realized there's nothing wrong with it._ "Fine," he agreed reluctantly.

"Excellent," the professor replied. "Please go up and fetch it, and I will take it with me now."

Harry's only reply was to sigh and rise from his chair. A minute later he was back in the common room. He handed the broom over without a word, something which obviously displeased the professor, judging by the tightening of her eyes and flaring of her nostrils as she turned to leave.

Harry turned to see that Hermione had approached him, looking serious.

"You thought I told her," she said, her voice holding a note of accusation.

"Yes, I did," Harry replied after a moment.

"Well, I didn't. I promised I wouldn't try to make decisions for you, and I keep my promises. But I'm glad she found out." Hermione's voice choked up a little bit as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "It's no use for me to get to say 'I told you so' if you're dead, Harry." Not waiting for a reply, she turned and walked up the staircase to the girls' dormitories.

Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off the oncoming headache. _And to think I was looking forward to today._


	20. Chapter 19: New Objectives

Chapter 19: New Objectives

Harry listened carefully to the snores of Ron Weasley, checking to see if the only other boy in his year who had chosen to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas break was truly asleep or not. After just a few minutes, Harry was confident that his companion was indeed in a deep slumber. Climbing quietly from his bed, he resized the Timeland access trunk and climbed down inside.

As he opened the door of the vanishing cabinet, he paused for a moment, thinking. He'd never considered how strange it was that an object used as a method of transportation was disguised as a typical cabinet. Why was that? And it wasn't just this set of cabinets, of course. The matching pair from Hogwarts and Borgin and Burkes looked like normal armoires. Harry frowned as a related thought came to mind. _How did a set of matching cabinets end up with one in Hogwarts and the other in a secondhand store in Knockturn?_

Unfortunately, there was no time to ponder these thoughts. He had work to do. Harry quickly traveled to Timeland then made his way to the office.

The teenaged Gryffindor let out a soft groan as he looked at the stack of paper sitting on his desk. He was going to be sneaking away from Hogwarts to meet with his team the next day, and he still hadn't even read half of the reports Peter had sent him. Fortunately, having the opportunity to make use of accelerated time solved the problem of his procrastination, but he still wasn't looking forward to all the reading he needed to do tonight. _Sooner started, sooner finished, _he reminded himself as he sat down and began to read, a pad of paper and a pen beside him for taking notes.

* * *

In some ways, it was fortunate that things between himself and Hermione were still a little stilted. After all, Harry would be hard-pressed to come up with a reason for disappearing for several hours. As things were now, however, he doubted that she would even notice. Not for the first time, Harry felt a little squirm of guilt at this thought. Hermione was one of his first friends, and while they certainly had their differences, he still didn't like the idea of their relationship falling apart so easily. And if he were honest with himself, it was as much his fault as it was hers. Yes, she shouldn't have tried to make decisions for him, but he shouldn't have lost his temper, and he shouldn't have been so quick to suspect that she had told McGonagall about the Firebolt.

There had been mistakes made on both sides; he could see that now. But fixing those mistakes was a more complicated endeavor.

But now was not the time to worry about it. Taking a deep breath, Harry sliced his palm with the sharp potions knife and clenched his hand into a fist, the warm blood running over his fingers and dripping into the wooden bowl on his desk. He hadn't intended for the cut to be particularly deep, but still, the blood flowed quickly. Opening his hand and healing the wound with a soft '_Episkey'_, Harry stared at the thick, crimson liquid.

During his time learning with Professor Ivankov over the summer, Harry had been taught about many forms of magic that could potentially be used in a combat situation. Blood magic had been one of those forms, though Ivankov had only covered the basic theory. Harry had never tried it before, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious about it.

The problem was that blood magic was, while not quite illegal, certainly frowned upon. If anyone were to discover that he was practicing such "dark" magic, Dumbledore would no doubt be informed, and would use it as an excuse to monitor the dark-haired teen even more closely. _For my own good, of course_, Harry thought sarcastically. And most of the people in Magical Britain would agree that such a course of action was justified. They certainly wouldn't approve of their beloved child hero practicing such foul sorcery.

But did that mean that he shouldn't learn it at all? If it one day saved his life, wasn't that worth it? Much like the issue with Hermione, Harry pushed that thought aside and focused on his present task.

Removing the necklace from around his neck and carefully placing it so that the strange, metal charm was submerged in the blood, Harry carefully set the bowl in one of the drawers of his desk, then slowly slid it closed to ensure that none of the blood spilled.

He took a deep breath, then walked over to the door on the far side of the dorm room. This was the moment of truth. Hopefully, the blood would be sufficient to maintain the monitoring charm on the necklace, but he would have no warning if it didn't work for some reason. And if he was correct in his assumption that Dumbledore was the one who had placed the spell, the headmaster would no doubt be alerted if the trick with the blood didn't work.

It was just another one of the many small risks that Harry was taking. But if it worked, Harry would be able to travel where he needed unimpeded and undetected. With one last glance back at his desk, Harry walked through the doorway and down the staircase to the common room.

To his surprise, the Weasley twins were sitting on the large, maroon chairs nearest the fireplace, apparently discussing something of great import, though their hushed voices were inaudible from across the room. Harry paid them no particular attention as he exited the common room on his way to breakfast.

* * *

Breakfast passed without incident, which Harry chose to interpret as a good sign. After all, if the monitoring charm had been broken, surely Dumbledore would have tried to find out how and why. But, by all indications, the spell was still in effect, the results carefully spoofed so that the headmaster would be unaware of Harry's activities.

Harry set out immediately after he finished eating, using the invisibility cloak to hide from prying eyes as he exited the castle and began the long trek to the ward boundary.

To his surprise and relief, he managed to stay on his feet when the portkey deposited him in the office, though it was a close call. He had arrived a little earlier than planned, but his employees were all present and ready, so they were able to start without delay.

"Thank you all for coming," Harry began. "I have some matters that I would like to address with some of you individually, but there's no need for us to deal with that as a group, so I'll come to your offices after this meeting. I do have a few matters I would like to bring up for discussion, but first, Peter is there anything that you feel we need to address?"

The blond man shook his head. "Nothing right now."

Harry looked around the room. "Anyone else?"

Though there were no vocal replies, it was clear that none of the others had any matters they wished to present to the group.

"Okay, then my stuff…" Harry said as he pulled out his notepad and reviewed his notes from the previous night.

"First, as I understand it, the muggleborn advocacy group Equitas had four leaders. Three of them were killed by Voldemort, but the fourth, uh," Harry glanced down to double-check the name, "David Möller, is alive." He looked over at Michelle. "Is that correct?"

"As far as we know," she agreed.

"I think we should try to find him," Harry said. "I realize it's unlikely that he has any critical bits of knowledge, but the more we can understand about the time period when Voldemort came to power the better off we will be. Any clues or additional information he can give us can only be to our benefit."

Though most of the people around the table seemed to support this idea, Michelle frowned. "The one thing that makes me a bit hesitant about that idea is that Möller didn't have the best reputation with the group. I've spoken with a few other surviving members of Equitas and they generally agree that he tended to support more violent actions," she warned.

"We're talking about a group that was opposing the people that went on to become Death Eaters," Malcolm pointed out. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

It was Mac that responded. "During the late sixties, there were persistent rumors that Equitas would attack Pureblood businesses or even homes in retaliation for supposed prejudice. The general consensus now is that most of those attacks were actually false flag operations conducted by the earliest Death Eaters themselves to drum up support and provide the organization with a semblance of legitimacy, but it's quite likely that some of those attacks really were perpetrated by Equitas. If Möller was one of the driving forces behind the more aggressive approach they took, especially in the later years, I'm not sure that we would want anything to do with him."

Michelle nodded. "A group called 'Eye for an Eye' claimed responsibility for those attacks, but many people believed that Equitas was ultimately responsible."

"We're not asking him to join our group," Peter countered. "Just answer some questions. We're planning on interrogating the imprisoned Death Eaters. Why would an overenthusiastic, or possibly even violent muggleborn be any different?"

"Even if he was an extremist before, people can change," Dan added. "And if he is still an extremist, it wouldn't be a bad idea for us to know where he is and what he's up to."

Harry rubbed his chin as he thought. "Michelle and Peter, see if you can find him, but don't contact him yet. If we can't find him, this whole debate is moot. If we can, then we'll decide what to do at that point," he finally decided.

Both individuals nodded in acknowledgment of his instructions, and Harry continued on to his next topic.

"Thus far we've been playing nice with _Veritas_," the teen said, "but I think we need to start being a bit more aggressive. We have a newspaper, let's use it. We can start running stories about ministerial corruption, Hogwarts' falling academic standards, anything along those lines. I know that we plan to expose many crimes by Fudge and Malfoy and their ilk, but I think that it would help if we were to start laying the groundwork now so that when the truth comes out, instead of it being a complete shock, people see it as proof that _Veritas_ is a good source of information." He paused to look around the table. "What do you all think? Is that a viable idea?"

"I like the idea, but I don't think we have enough real newspaper-worthy stories at this point," Chad said thoughtfully. "If we use up all of our good stories now, they will have faded from the public awareness before we're ready to make our move."

"Chad's right," Dan said. "Two words I never thought I would say, granted, but it's true nonetheless. Without more reports, we'd be better waiting."

"Dan, You're meeting with these people almost every day," Michelle reminded him. "Is there any way you can give us some more dirt to use?"

"No," Harry interjected immediately. "We don't want to risk anybody getting suspicious that something they mentioned in confidence to Dan later being reported in the paper. That's too big of a risk."

"Actually, I think one of the best sources of information is at Hogwarts with you, Harry," Malcolm said. "From some of the talk I've heard at our meetings, I suspect Umbridge is heavily involved in many of the shadier actions of the ministry. As I understand it, she's sort of the 'go-to' person in the ministry for bribes and blackmail."

"Which probably explains why such an incompetent and odious woman has attained such an important position," Peter observed.

"Okay, I'll look for an opportunity to get more information from Umbridge, but for now we'll hold off on using _Veritas_ to put pressure on the ministry." Harry jotted a quick note on his pad, then looked up once more. "Next item, Chad suggested that we build a movie theater in Diagon Alley. I like that idea, I think it's a great way to show magical people that non-magicals can do impressive things as well. But I had another thought as well. What do you all think about us making movies of our own?"

There was a moment of silence. "That's ambitious," Peter finally said.

"That's putting it mildly," Malcolm said.

"I'm not saying that we are the actors, or that it is just us doing all the work," Harry clarified. "What I mean is, we make a film production company that hires people as needed to make the films."

"It's an interesting idea," Chad replied. "Magic would give us a huge advantage. Special effects would be very easy for us. Human transfiguration allows the actors to look exactly like we want without any need for makeup or prosthetics. We might even be able to use actors for multiple roles."

"The reason that I brought this up now is that I think it would… synergize… well with something Michelle is working on," Harry explained. "Michelle, you expressed interest in writing a book about the defeat of Grindelwald, correct?"

"Yes, though I actually hadn't mentioned that to the group yet," the sole female in the room agreed.

"Then, could you tell us about that," Harry requested.

The blonde woman was clearly caught off guard, but rallied quickly. "Well, I have tentatively entitled it 'Fall of a Tyrant'. As Harry said, it's the story about the rise and ultimately, the defeat of Grindelwald. While I do want it to be as accurate as possible, I think it will be very advantageous for us to point out how little Dumbledore actually did. His victory there is his primary claim to fame, but in truth, he just swooped in at the last minute and took all the credit, even after ignoring multiple requests for aid from the ICW over the course of several years. He only joined the fight when Grindelwald was on the run."

"I think that if we were to make a movie of that, it would help to draw interest and spread the story further. And we have a unique opportunity coming up. Grindelwald was captured during the summer of '45, right?" Harry asked, looking over at the resident historian.

"August 19th, 1945," Michelle confirmed.

"Which means that the fifty-year anniversary is coming up in a year and a half," Harry pointed out. "If we can have a book and movie ready, that would be a very powerful and effective way to tell the true story, which would help to reduce Dumbledore's reputation."

"A lot more people would see a movie than read a book," Mac agreed. "Especially if it was the first magical movie made."

"I'm not saying that we start filming right now, but let's look at the possibility. Michelle, if you could come up with a basic outline for the movie, and Chad and Connor, if you could start looking into what equipment we would need." All three people nodded.

"And that's all that I wanted to talk about with the group," Harry announced.

Harry returned to Hogwarts an hour later, after having taken the opportunity to follow up individually with each of his employees on their respective projects. Once more using the invisibility cloak to sneak into the school undetected, he was pleased to note that his absence had apparently gone unnoticed.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the conversation ahead. _Gryffindors charge forward, _he reminded himself.

"Hey, Hermione," he said casually as he approached the table in the library where she was seated, books piled all around her.

"Harry," his friend replied, surprised. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you all day."

"Working on some spells, and just spending some time on my own," he lied easily. "I wanted to apologize," he said quickly before she could ask anymore about his activities. "You said that you wouldn't make decisions for me, and you always keep your word. I shouldn't have doubted you, or thought that you were the one to tell McGonagall without any proof."

"I was tempted to," the girl admitted. "It just really frightens me that someone is trying to kill you and you don't seem to care."

"I care," Harry assured her, "but I don't think that schoolteachers are the ones who should be trying to find the one behind these attacks. That's what aurors are for."

"You're the one that said the aurors aren't doing their jobs," Hermione objected.

"Yes, those particular aurors aren't, but I'm sure that there are others who would, and I am convinced that if Dumbledore really wanted, he could arrange for more diligent aurors to be assigned to the case," Harry said. "But if we keep talking about this, we're both just going to get frustrated, and that's not what I want. I know we have different opinions, but I still want us to be friends."

"Me, too," Hermione agreed softly.

"So, let's just agree to disagree respectfully," Harry suggested with a smile.

"Okay," the bushy-haired girl said. "I will respect your right to make decisions for yourself and make no attempt to coerce you to do things you don't want to do. But _please_ be careful."

"I will do my best to be careful," Harry confirmed, though he knew that the two of them likely had different interpretations of what that statement should mean.

"Thank you," came Hermione's quiet reply.

There was a pause for a moment. "So, what are you working on?" Harry finally asked.

"The essay for Divination," Hermione responded, eyes once more turned to the heavy texts on the table in front of her. "Have you even started it?"

"No, I find that my inner eye works more effectively as the due date draws closer," Harry said airily, not quite able to keep a straight face.

Even as she continued to read, Harry could see Hermione roll her eyes. "You mean you procrastinate until the very end then just make up something."

Harry grinned. "To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Well, that's not going to work for this assignment," Hermione stated with no small amount of satisfaction in her voice. "This one isn't about making up your own predictions, it's about analyzing and interpreting other famous prophecies."

She handed him a paper, and Harry began to read.

"_A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored."_

"_And in those last days before the great tribulation there shall come one, an undead, cursed with a soul. And he shall stand against his own, and when the conflict has ended, his reward shall be death."_

"_And after peace has been restored again in the land, then shall the Champion of Justice lead his people forth unto the stars; ancient truths to discover, and the ancient enemy to vanquish."_

"_When the darkness gathers, and the red star bleeds, then shall he come forth, the Deliverer, even the Prince that was Promised, he born amidst salt and smoke."_

Harry reread the list, frowning. "Interesting," he commented.

"They're particularly significant because those predictions, or, at least, close variants of them, have appeared in multiple cultures," Hermione said in a distracted voice, not looking up from the book she was studying. "They all date back thousands of years, and experts agree that they are all real prophecies that will someday be fulfilled, but nobody has any clue of when that will be."

"So, I'm not asking you to just tell me the answers here, but if you could point me in the right direction, that would help," Harry admitted. "I really wouldn't know where to start on this."

Hermione looked up with a sigh, though Harry was pleased to see that she had a small smile on her face. "Well, Sebastien's _Commentary on the Korrkoricon and Other Prophetic Writings_ provides a solid overview of the different divination traditions across the world, using a few of those prophecies as a reference," she said, pushing a large, blue tome over to him. "The commentary also has a list of sources for further reading that you should probably consult."

"Thank you," Harry said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

* * *

Harry frowned up at the staff table. _Of course, the one time I actually want to see her, and Umbridge is nowhere to be found. In fact, I don't think I've seen her at all over the break._

The realization surprised him. All of the other teachers were still in attendance. Even Trelawney had made more appearances than usual over the past week.

Still, even if Umbridge had returned home for the holidays, it didn't matter. When the break was over, the pink toad would return, and when she did, Harry would find a way to interrogate her. And all those juicy little secrets she was keeping about the injustices she had facilitated and the crimes she had helped cover up would be his.

* * *

A/N – Just for the record, in case you can't already tell, I am not using anything from the 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' movies. Didn't ever bother seeing them, and from what I've heard, I'm not missing much. Same with Cursed Child. This is based on the seven original books, and I've added backstory and extrapolated as need be to flesh things out more, especially concerning Dumbledore, Grindelwald and Voldemort.


	21. Chapter 20: Foundation for the Future

Chapter 20: The Foundation for the Future

Harry sighed in frustration as he watched the Marauder's Map, eyes fixed on the dot representing his target. The "Ministry-approved" defense club had apparently just ended; the dots with various (mostly pureblood) names slowly dispersing out into the school corridors. But, as usual, Umbridge was being accompanied by several students on her trek to the teacher's lounge.

He monitored their progress closely until Umbridge's dot approached the fire in the lounge and vanished, just as it did every other day. He tossed the map back on to the desk, rubbing his forehead irritably. He'd been monitoring her movements for nearly a week and hadn't seen a single time that she had been alone.

_Does she somehow know that I'm trying to get her, or is she just paranoid?_ Unfortunately, given how public his attack as 'Justice' last year had been, it was entirely plausible that the toad-like professor recognized that she was at risk, and was determined to never present an opportunity for such an attack on herself. Not that Harry intended to torture her, of course. But if Dolores Umbridge really were the major contact point for those seeking to take advantage of the corrupt elements in the ministry, she could provide him with a wealth of incriminating information at the cost of just a few drops of veritaserum.

But that relied upon him managing to find a time to capture her without anyone knowing she was missing, something that was looking less and less likely each day.

After deactivating the map, Harry climbed up out of the trunk, which he shrunk down to its compact size and placed in his pocket. For now, he had other things to focus on.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione, can we talk for just a minute?" Harry asked the next morning at breakfast, doing his best to remain nonchalant.

Apparently, it didn't work. His friend frowned briefly. "Sure, Harry," she replied, looking at him quizzically. "What's up?"

"We normally do our defense lessons on Saturday, but I have a project that I'm going to be working on that might take me all day, so I was wondering if we could do our lesson tonight instead. Say, 8:00? That way we'd finish with plenty of time before curfew. Would that work for you?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's fine," she replied.

"And Neville, how about we do your lesson tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me," the blond boy said with a smile.

"Excellent, thank you."

"What project are you working on?" Hermione asked.

"Just an idea I had before school started that I haven't gotten around to yet," Harry said casually. "If it works, I'll show you." He smiled. "And if it doesn't work, I'll probably show it to you and beg you to help me fix it."

A few snickers sounded at the table, and Harry was pleased to see that, despite the eyeroll, Hermione was smiling a little.

* * *

"So, what are we practicing tonight?"

Harry turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway. "Stunners," he replied, gesturing to the cushions he had placed on the floor.

Hermione's face fell. "Oh, joy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry shook his head firmly. "None of that, now," he chided gently. "Stunners are a great way to put an enemy out of the fight, and it's unlikely to harm the target unless you drastically overpower the spell, or one person gets hit by several spells at the same time."

"Yes, I know that," Hermione replied dryly, rolling her eyes. "It's the part where you fall down after you get stunned that I'm not as excited about."

"Which is why we have cushions," Harry countered with a smile. "Just make sure you fall on them, and there shouldn't be any problem."

His friend sighed, but nodded her head. Harry felt a small smidgeon of guilt at what he was about to do but suppressed it quickly. While it was a bit hypocritical of him, it was the best option he had come up with.

"Well, let's start with the theory, then, and make sure you can cast it correctly," he said as he pulled out his wand to demonstrate the proper wand motions.

As expected, Hermione picked the spell up almost instantly. Soon, she was confidently casting at the silhouette Harry had affixed to the wall, red balls of arcane energy flying quickly and accurately to the target.

Glancing down at his watch, Harry judged that it was about time. "Okay, let's get some real practice in," he said as he walked over to stand in front of one pile of cushions, a small smirk on his face. We'll take turns casting. Dodge or shield if you can," he instructed.

Hermione nodded, a resolute expression on her face. While she was a skilled caster, she didn't stand much chance against Harry, and it was clear that she knew it.

"You go first," Harry decided.

As always, Hermione's wand movements were tight and controlled, sending the spell flying right at Harry. With a slash of his wand, a blue shield sprung up, causing the incoming spell to disperse.

"Not bad," he said, meaning it. Hermione's biggest problem was that while she was technically proficient at her spells, she would often need to take a few seconds to focus before casting, a delay which could prove deadly in a fight. He'd been working with her on that issue, but it was something that would require a great deal of practice to finally overcome.

He brought his wand up to give her just a little bit of warning before casting his own stunner.

Hermione frantically moved her wand, trying to cast a shield, but she was just a bit too slow. The shield sprung to life only after Harry's spell had passed, and she fell on to the cushions, unconscious.

Harry glanced over at the door with a frown, but decided that it was still too early. Quickly walking over to where Hermione lay, he revived her, a small smile crossing his face at the disgruntled expression that appeared on hers.

"Gotta get that shield up faster," he said, quite unnecessarily.

Mock glaring at him, Hermione snatched up her wand and resumed her position, not saying a word, but the challenge was clear.

Harry returned to his place on the other side of the small classroom, wand held at the ready. Soon, they were trading spells back and forth, and Harry was pleased to see that Hermione was doing better at casting quickly without the need to pause for focus. "You're getting faster," he called encouragingly as he blocked her latest spell. His hand fell to his side, wand held loosely, with Hermione mimicking his action.

Without any warning, Harry sent a stunner of his own at his bushy-haired friend, who had just a moment to look shocked before the spell hit and she fell once more.

As he looked at the comatose form of his friend, Harry suppressed another swell of guilt. He had already decided, and he wasn't going to back out now.

Harry raced over to his bag and pulled out the Marauder's Map, noting with pleasure the dot standing just outside of the room. He ran over to Hermione and knelt down, then carefully grabbed the delicate chain around her neck and pulled the time turner out of her robes. Time turners themselves were rare, but it hadn't been difficult to find a book explaining what they looked like, and how to operate them.

Harry put the fine, golden chain around his neck, then removed the black, braided necklace that held the devil's trap talisman with the monitoring charm. Placing it on the ground, he walked over to the door, knocked loudly once, then turned the hourglass in his hand five times.

The world seemed to dissolve around him, colors and shapes rushing past as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, until finally, everything came in to focus again. He found himself standing in a deserted corridor not far from the Transfiguration classroom.

With a curse, he ducked into a broom closet just a little further down the hall. He had expected that he would travel back in time, arriving in the same room that he had been in before, but apparently the strange device he had 'borrowed' from Hermione didn't work like that.

Fortunately, escaping from Hogwarts wasn't too difficult. He had an excellent knowledge of the secret passages in the school, not to mention an incredibly effective invisibility cloak, though he had to retrieve it from the classroom where he and Hermione had been practicing earlier… or later, depending on how you looked at it. He had hidden it at lunch that day so that it would be easily at hand for his little jaunt to the past, not wanting to risk trying to bring it back in time and causing a strange magical interaction. Enchanted objects did not always cooperate with each other.

* * *

After arriving just outside of Hogsmeade, Harry glanced at his watch and was pleased to see that he had nearly an hour to spare. Resizing his trunk, he climbed inside and swiftly changed into a set of nice, yet non-descript robes. Taking a moment to study his appearance in a mirror, he opened a drawer in the desk and retrieved a small, golden ring that Chad had sent over several days ago, which he slipped onto his left forefinger.

The image in the mirror rippled briefly before settling into the appearance of a blonde boy with brilliant blue eyes. Harry could not help a small smirk as he admired his new visage. He looked nothing like himself. Even the scar was gone, unlike if he used a normal disguise potion. And while Polyjuice could hide the scar, it only lasted for an hour, which would be insufficient for his purposes that evening.

Taking one last look to ensure that there were no flaws in his disguise, Harry climbed out of the trunk and strode calmly into Hogsmeade, making his way directly to The Three Broomsticks. The floo was as unpleasant as ever, but at least he managed to arrive at his intended destination, the Leaky Cauldron.

After taking a moment to gather himself, Harry walked out back and opened the portal that led to Diagon Alley. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face as the familiar sight came in to view. Most of the shops were closed now, but it was still a pleasant place to be in.

Harry walked down the road, not in any particular hurry now, but not taking the time to look at the shops as he passed either. Eventually, he arrived at his target, a large, majestic building with thick Romanesque columns that appeared to be made of marble. Gold lettering on the archway above proudly proclaimed it to be the headquarters of the Foundation for the Future.

Large, tasteful posters were displayed in the windows, one with the words 'Protect our Magic: It's about TIME', making Harry smirk. _I wonder how people would react if they knew the truth_, he wondered. But there was no time to contemplate this thought. Instead, he entered, taking a moment to admire the exquisite work inside. A thick, luxuriant carpet with alternating gold and purple diamonds covered the floor, and the walls were made of dark stained wood.

Not wanting to seem out of place, he didn't spend long gazing at his surroundings. Instead, he approached a man with long, though very neat, grey hair and dark brown eyes seated behind a fancy table.

"Andrus Masters, here for the fundraiser," Harry stated confidently.

"Of course, Mister Masters," the man replied as he made a note on the list on the table before gesturing toward a pair of double doors just ahead. "As you will see when you enter the hall, some of the tables toward the front are reserved, but you are welcome to sit anywhere else that you like. Thank you for supporting the Foundation for the Future," the man finished with a polite smile.

"Thank you," Harry replied, nodding his head before proceeding forward.

The dining hall was mostly full already when Harry entered, including, to his surprise and amusement, the members of the Inquisitorial Squad. There were about two dozen of them, seated at tables near the front. Even from a distance, Harry could see the red-haired form of Percy Weasley, and idly wondered what the next prank his brothers played on him would be.

"Mister Masters," a voice called, and Harry turned to see a large, well-tanned man with dark brown hair approaching him with a smile on his face. Though the Gryffindor didn't recognize the man, there was no cause for concern, as there were only two people here who knew 'Andrus Masters'. A quick glance at the small, diamond shaped pin on the lapel of the man's dress robes confirmed Harry's suspicions.

"Mister Malcolm," he responded with a smile. "Thank you for inviting me here tonight."

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence," the man countered with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Please, would you care to join me at my table? There are a few of the other guests present that I think you might be interested to meet."

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

* * *

Harry spent the next fifteen minutes trying to look interested as the other guests subtly (or not so subtly, in some cases) bragged about themselves. Of course, given that they were seated here at a table in the back half of the room, they clearly weren't as important as they pretended, but Harry knew there was nothing to be gained by pointing this out. Instead, he let the minor ministry bureaucrats and small business owners bicker politely amongst themselves, while he took the opportunity to study the occupants of the room closely, particularly those in the more distinguished seats at the tables toward the front.

At last, the doors were shut, and a thin man in a serious, yet fashionable dress robe stood up and approached the podium at the front of the room.

"My esteemed wizards and witches, thank you all for coming here tonight in support of a truly noble cause. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Victor Grey, and I currently have the honor of serving as the chairman of the Foundation for the Future."

There was a soft round of applause, which the man acknowledged with a grateful nod of his head.

"As many of you know, in just a few short months, we have seen incredible progress dedicated to advancing the cause of protecting our magical heritage and ensuring that we leave the world a better place for our children. We here at the foundation will never stop working toward these noble goals, and we are grateful that all of you have chosen to stand up and support us in this vital endeavor. We have a wonderful announcement coming up, but first, I believe you were promised some food," Grey said with a smile, which elicited some chuckles from around the hall.

"So, without further ado, we will commence with the banquet, after which it will be my honor to speak to you all to explain the newest means by which our community will go about building a better tomorrow."

Grey sat down, and Harry was unsurprised to see Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge at the table with him.

Harry glanced at his plate, on which had appeared an elegant menu. Taking a moment to study the choices, he selected steak and a green salad, which appeared on his plate as soon as the words left his mouth.

As expected, the meal was delicious, though the dinner conversation was just a little awkward. After all, not only was he the youngest, he had to continually lie about who he was and why he was here.

"So, Andrus, I have to ask, if you are from Australia, how is it that you speak so well? I can hear only the faintest hint of an accent," said Melody Bunyan, owner of a small shop that primarily sold talking mirrors.

_You couldn't hear any accent at all. You just think it makes you look smarter if you say you do. _No sign of this thought appeared on Harry's face, however. "My tutors were quite insistent that I learn to speak appropriately," he responded. "After all, despite the many potion ingredients that come from my homeland, it's obvious that one must look elsewhere for a truly civilized society. In my judgement, magical Britain seems to have the corner on that particular market," he added, to the obvious delight of the other guests at the table. Looking for a chance to turn the conversation away from himself, Harry glanced over at the older man a few seats from him. "So, William, you mentioned that you went on an expedition to hunt nundu when you were younger. What was that like?"

And just like that, the inane chatter turned to other matters, much to Harry's relief. He just couldn't wait for the meal to be over.

* * *

Harry had long since finished his food when a hush settled over the room as Victor Grey stood once more.

"I hope you all enjoyed your meal," the man began. "You can chase it down with some dessert a little later, but now it's time for that announcement I promised you." He looked out over the crowd, his face somber.

"A famous muggle writer once said, 'The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons'. A fascinating statement, and one that we should all consider deeply. After all, if even _muggles_ understand such an important concept, ought not we, as members of the most esteemed magical society on this planet hold ourselves to an even higher standard?"

Grey paused. Now his face looked sorrowful. "And yet, let us look at our prison. Azkaban. Famous throughout the world, and not for good reasons. It is a desolate and miserable. An icy hell from which those incarcerated within have no respite. What does it say about our civilization that we force our prisoners to endure such conditions?"

The speaker raised his hand in a placating gesture. "I know that some will say that we ought not coddle the convicts. And yet, who are these prisoners, really? The answer is simple. They are our brothers and sisters in magic. Yes, they have made mistakes, but do those mistakes mean that we should turn our backs on them? In many cases, they were tragically led astray by their overenthusiastic zeal in defending our traditions and heritage."

"Our esteemed Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore, gave a speech following the end of the hostilities that plagued our lands more than a decade ago, urging all citizens of magical Britain to find it in themselves to forgive, for only through forgiveness could our society be made whole once more. Are we really so petty that we would continue to torment others for mistakes made long ago? Will their suffering somehow fix the problems that we faced years ago? No, those who would force prisoners to languish in Azkaban do not thirst for justice, as they claim. Rather, their only concern is for vengeance. But I believe that we are better than that!"

Grey looked at the table in front of him, gesturing as he continued to speak. "Fortunately, our great Minister, Cornelius Fudge, is an honorable man who understands this. And so it is, with his support, that I am proud to announce the construction of a new prison, one dedicated to securely housing and rehabilitating those misguided souls who have committed crimes, treating them with the respect that they deserve, and that they need in order to overcome the challenges they face and once more become productive members of our society."

"Space in our new prison will be limited, and so, will be determined on a case-by-case basis. All prisoners who elect, or whose families elect for them, to serve out their sentence in our new facility will be required to pay a small fee that goes toward the upkeep of the facility, but I can promise you that such a fee will not be exorbitant." Grey's face was a mask of sympathy. "Families in this sort of situation already struggle with having a loved one in such a circumstance. We have no desire to add to their burden. It is our goal that one day, every honorable member of the wizarding world can rest assured knowing that any of their loved ones who have been led astray will be able to pay their debt to society in a manner that is both respectful and nurturing – a gentle hand to lovingly guide them back to the correct path that they have forsaken."

"This may seem like a large change, but I truly believe that our society will be so much the better for it. And I know that I am not alone in that sentiment. I know that I can count on every one of you here today to support this noble quest. We will not allow the poison of hatred and vengeance to choke us. We will rise above it! From the time of Merlin even up until now, magical Britain, under the wise and careful leadership of the Wizengamot and our illustrious Ministry, has been proud to shine a light, showing forth an example to communities all around the world. We have never faltered, and I know that with the dedication you have all shown here tonight, we never will!"

Loud applause sounded through the hall. Harry joined in so as not to attract attention, though he was disturbed at how enthusiastically people were supporting the idea.

After a minute, the speaker at the front of the room finally raised his hand to signal for silence.

"Now, I could go on, but I think you've all listened to me long enough," the chairman said with a smile. "I just have a few points left. First, as some of you may be aware, the Foundation for the Future has decided to celebrate those members of our community who have demonstrated a notable commitment to aiding our society. We will do so by presenting one individual each year with our 'Citizen's Award of Excellence', with the first deserving recipient being announced this spring. We are currently evaluating candidates, and I hope you will all come to support this wonderful program celebrating those who work tirelessly to make our world a better one."

Harry could see Lucius Malfoy sit a little straighter at this announcement. _Someone must have told him he's the front runner._ Harry smirked at that thought. Malfoy had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"Next, I would like to call attention to this wonderful group of young people at the front of the room here – the members of the Inquisitorial Squad of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, chosen for their dedication not just to academic excellence, but to duty and honor. They serve as an example for all other students, and as I look at them here tonight, I can say with complete confidence that the future is in very good hands."

"And lastly, a toast," Grey called out as he reached over to grab a wine glass from the table. "My most excellent wizards and witches, a toast… to the future of magical Britain, and the whole magical world." A smirk crossed his face. "Or in other words, TO US!" he roared as he lifted the glass high.

This was met with cheers and applause as the guests in the hall raised their glasses as well, eager to show their support.

* * *

With the dinner and speech concluded, a large dessert bar appeared along one wall and the tables and chairs slowly vanished, giving the guests an opportunity to mingle and socialize. Harry casually made his way toward the front, then did his best to stay within earshot of Victor Grey, paying attention to those who came up to speak with him.

"I must thank you for your thoughtfulness in being concerned with those poor, misguided souls who languish in that dreadful prison," an older man Harry thought might be Agamemnon Nott said, his voice filled with false solemnity. "Though, I must ask, are you concerned about the reactions of those who do harshly condemn these poor men and women?"

"One must always stand for what he believes in," Grey responded, his voice firm, but amusement dancing in his eyes. "Allowing people to rot in such a hellish place because of a tragic mistake is unconscionable. With our new prison, we will be able to ensure that these individuals are able to pay their debt to society while still being treated humanely as befits proper witches and wizards, guaranteeing that they are held safely until the appropriate time."

At this, Nott leaned forward, seemingly intrigued. "The… appropriate time?"

"Why, when their sentence has been finished, of course," Grey said, every word dripping with mock sincerity.

"Of course," Nott agreed, a small smile twisting his lips. "As it turns out, I was, through a curious set of circumstances, appointed to manage the affairs of a small number of unfortunate individuals who found themselves led astray during the war. I think these people may be able to benefit from this new initiative of yours. Perhaps we could find a time to meet and arrange their transfer to your new prison once construction has finished?"

"I look forward to it," Grey promised before the two men separated.

Fudge had just approached Grey when Harry saw someone approaching him out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a familiar face.

"I must admit, I'm surprised to see someone of school age here, despite not being a member of the Squad," the girl stated as she extended her hand. "Daphne Greengrass."

"Andrus Masters," Harry replied, taking her hand and gently pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "A pleasure to meet such a beautiful young woman."

Much to Harry's relief, their conversation was interrupted.

"Mister Masters, Chairman Grey would like to speak with you in his office."

"Thank you, Mister Malcolm," Harry replied with equanimity before turning back to his attractive schoolmate. "Alas, duty calls," he said, "but I do hope that we will have the opportunity to meet again."

"Duty?" Greengrass said, sounding intrigued. "How curious. I'll have to make certain that we do have such an opportunity."

* * *

Harry was shown into an opulent office and took the opportunity to make himself comfortable on the padded chair in front of the desk. After several minutes, the door opened, and Harry looked over to see Victor Grey enter the room, a frown on his face.

Grey shut the door, then drew his wand and tapped on a few runes on the frame. The walls glowed blue for just a moment, and the man seemed to relax. "We're secure," he announced.

"That was quite a speech," Harry said.

'Victor Grey' walked over to the desk and pulled out the chair, sighing as he sat down. Twisting a knob on his expensive-looking watch, his face seemed to liquify before reforming in a much more familiar appearance.

"You know," Dan Falkenson said, "when you first approached me, I was a bit skeptical about this whole 'cloak and dagger' thing, but I have to admit, it's kind of fun to see people like Malfoy and Nott supporting us and to think that they have absolutely no idea what we're really planning."

Harry could only nod and grin at the business consultant's words. "And when they finally do find out, it'll be too late to stop it," he added with satisfaction.

* * *

A/N – We finally get a look at Harry's super secret plan. I know a few people guessed it, so kudos to those of you who figured out that the Foundation was part of Harry's scheme all along.

We are going to learn more about Harry's plan, but this chapter is getting a bit long already, so that will have to wait for next week.

Now, a question for all of you – how do you think the existence of magic should impact wizarding society? What differences would we see between a magical culture and a mundane one? I don't like the common idea that it's just like normal society only the people have some different abilities. Having magical abilities should have a profound impact on their civilization. I have my own ideas that I'm going to be developing, but if any of you have thoughts on the subject, I would be interested to read them.


	22. Chapter 21: A New Player

Chapter 21: A New Player

Harry glanced down at his watch. "I've got about an hour before I should be heading back to Hogwarts. Want to give me an update on how things are going?"

Dan nodded. "Where would you like me to start?"

"The prison," Harry replied without hesitation.

If the business consultant was surprised by this, he gave no sign. "You already heard the fancy PR speech, so I'll get down to the details. Initial construction should be finished in about a month. We'll have room for twenty inmates to begin with. Right now, there are ten Death Eaters in Azkaban." Dan paused. "Well, ten members of his inner circle, if you will. There's plenty of others who were arrested for supporting Riddle, but they were just low-level thugs. We've already gotten confirmation that six of them will be transferring to our prison. Which needs a name," Dan added, pointing to Harry, who nodded in acknowledgment.

"Which Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"The three Lestranges, Rookwood, Travers and Selwyn," came the reply. "Nott was considering sending a few more our way, which would add Dolohov, Mulciber and maybe a few of the thugs, but since he only found out about the prison tonight, I don't expect him to make a firm commitment for a few weeks at least."

"I thought he was pretty involved in this place," Harry said. "Wouldn't he have heard about it before?"

"Nott comes to fundraisers and has donated some money, but he's not on the Board of Directors. He has signed the contract, though, so that's good," Dan replied.

"And since you didn't say anything, I assume that he didn't spot the trap we put into it?" Despite his casual tone, deep down Harry was quite concerned.

"None of them have," Dan answered with a chuckle. "After all, it's not magically binding, so they don't see the contract as a threat. I don't think any of them have read it thoroughly enough to put the pieces together, not to mention they would need to reference the Foundation's bylaws to understand the full scope of what they're agreeing to."

"So, we'll have everything set up when we decide to go public?"

"From a legal perspective, yes," Dan said. "There are a few more things that I'd like to push forward while Fudge is still supporting us. Once everyone knows the truth, we'll be facing a lot more opposition. Best to take advantage of having all the blood bigots on our side while it lasts."

"Right. Fudge." Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I'm surprised he was so supportive of the new prison. Doesn't that technically take power away from the ministry? I'd think he wouldn't like that."

"Just the opposite," Dan scoffed. "He's happy to make it someone else's problem. Azkaban is an absolute disaster for the ministry in almost every way. While most people are fine with Death Eaters or other violent criminals being imprisoned there, non-violent criminals are a different story. Just as an example, trespassing on government property carries a minimum punishment of six months in prison. A six-month sentence in Azkaban has about a fifty-fifty chance of killing the inmate. So, when someone gets sentenced to Azkaban, you've got a lot of people protesting, which the Minister certainly doesn't like. But if he were to propose building a more humane prison, that would mean increased taxes, which people don't like. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place. Allowing us to build a prison gives him a third option that solves a lot of problems for him."

Harry nodded, eyes looking off into the distance as he thought about this. "Is it possible that people will demand that the Death Eaters be sent back to Azkaban once they know the truth about the Foundation?" the teen wondered.

"People who support the Death Eaters might," Dan replied after a moment's thought. "After all, they're transferring their people here because they think our goal is to get them healthy and ready to help their Dark Lord when he returns. Finding out that our prison will actually be more secure than Azkaban will be an unpleasant surprise."

"Then we'll need to make certain that we have plenty of time to interrogate the prisoners before Malfoy gets his _Citizen's Award_," Harry said, the sarcasm clear in his voice as he said the last two words. He frowned as a thought came to mind. "Not that I really care, but could we get in trouble if people find out that we're using veritaserum to question them?"

"No, it's allowed by the contract. A bit of a stretch, granted, but technically it is permitted," Dan replied.

"Seriously? They consented to veritaserum interrogations?" Harry was flabbergasted.

Dan rocked his hand back and forth. "Not as such. But they did agree to the use of limited duration potions at the discretion of the prison healer for the purposes of ensuring prisoner health. And since…" he frowned thoughtfully. "Did we tell you about Diamond Protocol?"

"No," Harry stated.

"Okay." Dan paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. "The prison is underground, as I'm sure you are aware. The original design was to have an elevator that takes you down to the prison, but now that Chad and Connor have found a way to reliably construct vanishing cabinets, we changed that. Now, the elevator is just a decoy housing the oversized cabinet, allowing us to keep the location of the prison a secret. Which brings us to Diamond Protocol. Obviously, we're not advertising it, but if any unauthorized person manages to enter the prison itself in an apparent attempt to free the prisoners, we will kill any prisoners who have been given a life sentence."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't heard that one, but it did make sense. "The Wizengamot ordered that they spend the rest of their life in prison. So, we would be ensuring that sentence is carried out," he said, nodding.

"The exact logic we would use if it ever came up." Dan replied. "Which, hopefully, it never will, but best to be prepared. And since anyone attempting to break them out therefore poses a severe threat to their lives, the terms they agreed to give us the option of questioning them under veritaserum, with the approval of the healer, to identify anyone who might try to free them, and give us the information we need to stop such an individual before they attack the prison."

"Such as Riddle," Harry realized.

Dan nodded. "And, of course, since they might feel the need to harm themselves when they discover that they have betrayed their master, it's also acceptable for us to obliviate them afterward."

Harry whistled appreciatively. "And nobody can complain if they discover what we've done because it's all justified in the contract and the prison's official standard operating procedures."

"Exactly," Dan agreed. "A bit of a stretch in some places, but not enough for anyone to say that we have violated any of the agreed upon terms."

"I'm impressed. You did good work," the teen said.

Dan shrugged. "You were the one that came up with the idea of the prison. I just fleshed out the idea and found ways to give us some semblance of legal cover without the Death Eaters knowing. With any luck, most of legal safeguards and loopholes I put in will never be needed."

Harry fell silent for a few moments. Ferdinand Falkenson had proven himself to be a capable addition to Harry's little cabal, but, as was so often the case, Harry couldn't help but wonder why. Dan had admitted that the amount they were paying him was substantially less than he could make through his normal occupation as a business consultant helping to improve the efficacy of large corporations in the non-magical world. So why had the man agreed to help them? Before he could voice this question, the door opened and Malcolm Weasley appeared, though he was still in his guise as 'Mister Malcolm', a pureblood from Canada.

"We've got a problem," the man said.

* * *

Harry looked around the room, faintly surprised. "Why is there an interrogation room in the basement?" It all looked straight out of a crime show from TV. Harry, Dan and Malcolm were standing in a dark room, looking at a brightly lit room with a sturdy table and several chairs through a large, one-way mirror built into one wall

"We figured it might be necessary at some point," Dan replied tersely. "Never thought we'd actually use it."

Seated in a chair in the other room was a man who appeared to be in his late twenties, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing the uniform of the employees at the Foundation.

"And you're sure he's not who he claims to be?" Dan asked, eyes fixed on the subject of their discussion.

"Davidson first reported he was acting unusually. Nothing major, but enough to make him suspicious. When I approached with two security guards, Monroe, or whoever that really is, tried to slip out, but we caught him," Malcolm said. "Couldn't answer the security questions. Failed to respond appropriately on all three."

"Polyjuice?" Harry theorized. "Or maybe the imperius?"

"He would still have been able to answer the questions under the imperius," Malcolm replied, shaking his head. "Polyjuice is our best guess, but there isn't a way to test that I know of."

"We really need to figure out something to test for both," Dan remarked offhandedly. "Especially if we're expecting to have to fight in the Blood War, part two."

"I'll tell Peter to have our people start working on it," Harry agreed, "but that doesn't answer the question of what to do with him."

"We'll question him under veritaserum," Dan finally decided. "It's the best option we have. In the meantime, Malcolm, send a pair of guards to check Monroe's home."

* * *

Harry remained in the dark observation room patiently watching 'Monroe' while Dan and Malcolm set to fulfilling their tasks. A few minutes later, the door to the interrogation room opened, and Dan walked inside, in his disguise as Victor Grey, accompanied by two security guards.

"Hello, Monroe," 'Grey' said.

"Hey, boss," the large man seated at the table said, sounding more confused than nervous as he glanced at the three men who had just entered. "What's going on? Why'm I in here?"

"As you should well know, when you began work here, you created several question and answer challenges to ensure you are who you say you are, and also as covert ways of indicating that you were under duress. When Mister Malcolm asked you those questions tonight, you failed to respond appropriately. We need to know why."

"I… I don't remember any of that," the man confessed. "I don't…" He shook his head. "Have I been obliviated?"

"That's what we need to find out," the chairman replied. "The easiest way would be for you to take veritaserum. I can't require you to do so, but that would be the quickest way for us to get to the bottom of this."

"I'll do it," Monroe said immediately.

Harry frowned. _Why would an imposter be so willing to take truth serum?_

The door to the observation room opened at Malcolm reappeared. "The guards didn't find anything immediately suspicious at Monroe's home, though they'll keep looking," he reported with a frown as he went to stand next to Harry.

"Well, he agreed to be questioned," Harry informed the other man. "So maybe we'll get some answers."

It didn't take long for the guard to bring a sealed vial of veritaserum. "Open your mouth," 'Victor Grey' ordered Monroe as the guard approached.

From his perspective, Harry couldn't see the potion being administered, but Dan could. When the guard stepped away, Monroe had a slightly vacant, glassy expression.

"What is your name?" 'Grey' asked.

"Thomas Markus Monroe," the other man responded in monotone.

"What is your date of birth?"

"July 2, 1965," came the reply.

"How long have you been an employee at the Foundation for the Future?"

"Five months," was the response.

"Why did you come here tonight?" The chairman's voice gave no clues as to his current thoughts.

"I was scheduled to work as an usher at the banquet."

"Have you ever reported anything about the Foundation to anyone without authorization?"

"No."

"What is your relationship with Lucius Malfoy?"

For just a second, Harry thought that he saw a look of surprise or maybe panic cross Monroe's face, but it was gone almost immediately. "I have seen him at meetings for the Foundation. I've never met him outside of that."

Similar questions about Agamemnon Nott, Cornelius Fudge, and many others produced similar responses.

The interrogation continued for another twenty minutes without any significant revelations.

"Why don't you remember your security questions?" 'Grey' finally asked.

"I don't know," came the reply.

Silence filled the room, stretching on for some time as Grey studied the man seated before him. Finally, he left without saying a word. A few seconds later, the door to the observation room opened and he entered, nodding at Malcolm.

"Did the guards find anything suspicious?"

"Nothing," Malcolm reported.

Dan sighed. "I don't know. I'm not an expert by any means, but I've conducted a fair number of veritaserum interviews here, particularly with new hires. From what I can tell, he's telling the truth. He answered the initial baseline questions correctly. He is, or at least, he truly believes himself to be Thomas Monroe."

"Is it possible that he can resist the veritaserum?" Harry asked.

"Is it possible? Yes. Is it easy? Not in the least. While there is a counteragent that a person can take to protect themselves from veritaserum, it prevents the serum from having any effect on the person at all, which is quite easy to see. There are signs when a person is under the effect of veritaserum, and Monroe displayed them all. The glassy eyes, the monotone voice, pupil dilation, even slight discoloration of the fingernails… it all fits. Unless this guy has the ability to perfectly control his physiological responses, I don't see how he could be faking it."

"Then why doesn't he remember the security questions?" Malcom wondered, giving voice to the question that was plaguing them all. "That's an odd thing for someone to obliviate him of."

"He seemed surprised when you asked about Malfoy," Harry remembered.

"Now that you mention it, he did, just a bit." Dan paused thoughtfully. "Which would be a very odd thing under veritaserum," he added, frowning.

"How much do the guards know about the real purpose of the Foundation?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Malcolm replied.

"You're pretending to be a bunch of blood bigots with a thin veneer of respectability," Harry said slowly, as an idea came to mind. "Our first assumption was that he's working for someone like Malfoy, but that might not be the case. It could be someone who is opposed to the Death Eaters and blood bigots, and he sent an agent to investigate in the hopes of finding proof that we're not the upstanding organization we pretend to be."

"That does make sense," Dan agreed. "But who, and why? And if they successfully managed to get Monroe in place, why remove his memory of the security questions?"

"Are we sure that's really Monroe? We've got ways of looking like other people," Malcolm pointed out. "We're using them right now."

"An anchored transfiguration to look different to yourself is very easy," Dan countered. "Looking and sounding exactly like someone else without Polyjuice potion is incredibly difficult. Not to mention that he passed the veritaserum questioning."

The two older men continued to debate the issue for a few minutes, but Harry ignored them, choosing instead to study the man still being held in the interrogation room.

"I'm going to tell him the truth," Harry finally decided.

Dan and Malcolm's discussion cut off immediately, and they turned to stare at Harry, identical bewildered looks on their faces.

"The truth…" Dan prompted. "The truth about what?"

"Everything," Harry replied. "Who I am, the purpose of this place, everything. There's a chance he's on our side, and if so, that's the best way to find out."

"And if he's not on our side?" Malcolm asked delicately.

"Then we obliviate him and take him to the cabin for further interrogation until we know what's up with him," Harry replied, though he wasn't thrilled with his own answer.

"I'll have the guards step out," Dan said with obvious reluctance. "But they'll be right outside the door, just in case."

* * *

Harry entered the interrogation room a few minutes later.

"Who're you?" Monroe asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Well, in this appearance my name is Andrus Masters, a young man from a wealthy family in Australia that owns several large plantations growing many different herbs. Sort of the Australian equivalent of the Longbottoms," Harry replied.

Monroe regarded him curiously. "And in your normal appearance?"

"This is the device that allow me to change forms," Harry explained in lieu of answering directly, pointing to the gold ring on his left forefinger. "It has an anchored transfiguration, that when active, gives me this appearance. If I take it off, I will resume my normal form."

Harry slipped the ring off, and Monroe blinked in surprise. "Harry Potter?" The man's voice was filled with shock and confusion.

"Yes, I am Harry Potter. The Foundation for the Future is one part of my endeavor to expose the crimes of the Minister and his cronies, such as Lucius Malfoy. My goals are to get justice for the murder of my godfather, Sirius Black, to eliminate the corruption in the Ministry and the Wizengamot that allows the rich and powerful to get away with murder, while less fortunate people are sent to Azkaban for minor crimes without a fair chance to defend themselves, as well as to eliminate the economic monopolies that allow select old families to control magical Britain. And, also, to prepare to fight against the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort should he ever manage to return."

Monroe stared. "Why are you telling me this?" he finally asked.

"Because I believe that you somehow faked being under the influence of the veritaserum, and that you are here investigating the Foundation. Given the public perception of the Foundation, I think that you suspect we are secretly working for Voldemort, when in fact, it is just the opposite. I hope that by telling you the truth, I have shown that we can work on the same side. Obviously, you have goals. That's why you snuck in here. And the fact that you were very nearly successful, and managed to pass an interrogation even under veritaserum proves that you have skills." Harry took a deep breath. "So, let's work together. I've told you why I'm here and what I'm doing. What about you?"

Seconds ticked by with no response. Instead, Monroe was studying him carefully. "I was here looking for more information about what you're up to. And my goal is to get justice for the murder of Sirius Black."

Harry frowned. "Why do you care about Sirius Black?"

Monroe's face blurred, reforming into an attractive woman of about twenty with pink hair. "My name is Nymphadora Tonks," she said. "Sirius was my mother's favorite cousin."

* * *

The discussion with Tonks (as she insisted on being called) was enlightening, but much too short. After all, Harry needed to get back to Hogwarts before anyone knew he had ever left. Still, there was enough time to convince Tonks that she should work with him and his team, while convincing Harry that he had been right to take the chance of telling her the truth.

Not only did Tonks have access to secure ministry records, her ability to shift her appearance to look like anyone she wanted was an incredible ability, and it didn't even stop there. She had complete control over her body, as she had proudly informed him, though she did tend to be a bit uncoordinated when she wasn't intentionally using her powers. In fact, that had been the secret that allowed her to overcome the veritaserum. She had temporarily morphed the lining of her stomach so that it no longer absorbed anything, while using her powers to give the appearance of being under the effect of the potion.

As Harry snuck back into the school, his mind was whirling with thoughts of new ways that someone with such an incredible ability could be used. Tonks had been thrilled at the idea of someone finally wanting to make use of her exceptionally rare ability. She had joined the Aurors with the notion of being an incredibly effective undercover agent, but most of the other Aurors seemed to think her skill was nothing more than an interesting parlor trick.

Well, if she was looking for a chance to use her shapeshifting abilities for a good cause, Harry would be happy to provide her plenty of opportunities.

Harry hid under his cloak outside the classroom where his previous self and Hermione were practicing, waiting for the knock on the door. Counting to ten, he quietly crept inside and was unsurprised to see that the room was empty except for Hermione, who was unconscious on the cushions. As he looked at his friend, he couldn't help the swell of guilt eating away at him.

He was such a hypocrite. He'd been angry at her for going behind his back and making decisions that affected him without consulting him first, and yet, he had been so focused on sneaking out to the Foundation meeting that he ignored the fact that he did the same thing. In some ways, his actions were even worse. Time turners were heavily restricted, and if it became known that Hermione had allowed him to use hers, she might get in trouble for it.

He tried to tell himself that his situation was different, but deep down, he knew it wasn't. _I guess we're all good at finding excuses to justify our actions._ Still, now wasn't the time for a crisis of conscience.

Checking that Hermione was still unconscious, he pulled her into a sitting position and carefully slipped the time turner back around her neck and down her shirt, doing his best to ignore the inadvertent glimpse this allowed him of his friend's cleavage.

Finally satisfied that there were no clues of the escapade he had taken while Hermione was stunned, Harry revived his friend. "Can't let your guard down just because the other person doesn't seem to be threatening you," he chided gently as though he had never left.

Hermione mock glared at him. "I should have known you would do something tricky like that," she said with a scowl.

"I'm sure you'll be prepared next time," Harry assured her.

"You better believe I will. And you better be prepared as well. I'll have my revenge someday," she promised, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Harry laughed. "Hermione, thanks for being my friend. I'm sorry I got mad at you before."

Hermione looked startled. "You're welcome. And thanks for being my friend," she finally replied, her voice soft, but filled with genuine emotion.

They tidied up the classroom, then left. "Does this mean that you'll tell me what your project for Saturday is?" the bushy-haired girl inquired innocently.

"Still won't let that go, huh?" Harry said with a chuckle. "Okay, fine. It's an idea I had over the summer, but I just haven't had time to work on it yet. I bought a cloth-covered binder that zips closed and some very thin wooden trays that are about the right size to fit in the covers. I want to use space expansion charms on the trays to make them deep enough to hold all my schoolbooks in one and space for lots of rolls of parchment in the other. I'll attach the trays to the inside of the binder with the book one in front and the parchment one in the back so I can always carry everything I need for all my classes, and it's more organized than the bookbags we use now."

Hermione stared at him, startled. "That's a clever idea," she replied enthusiastically. "I've wanted to bring a binder with lined paper for a while now, but I was afraid that it would look too muggle. It would be much easier to use for keeping notes in, for sure. But why carry so many rolls of parchment?"

"I'd only need one or two actual rolls, but having a space for each class means that I could have a specific spot to store my completed essays, rather than having to remember to grab them before class, or risk them getting crumpled in my bookbag after I finish them."

"Oh, Harry, that's a brilliant idea," Hermione gushed. "You've really put a lot of thought into this."

"Well, we'll see how it works. I'm going to try the expansion charms on the trays, and I wondered about trying to find some sort of charm so things don't shift and bump around when I carry the binder." He knew such a thing was possible because the emergency kit he carried had one, but it was just a matter of finding the correct charm in the books he 'officially' had access to.

"I'll help you look, if you don't mind me copying your idea," the girl promised.

"Of course," Harry said immediately. "I just wanted to try and figure it out on my own so I don't get dependent on you doing all the tricky spellwork for me."

The pair continued to discuss idea as they walked through the halls, all the tension and awkwardness of the past few weeks gone.


	23. Chapter 22: Tricking the Toad

Chapter 22: Tricking the Toad

"Hey, Harry, do you have a moment?"

Harry looked up from the book he was reading, frowning in confusion. He recognized the voice, but the tone was completely different from normal. He turned around to see Parvati Patil looking at him, an unusually serious expression on her face. _No,_ he realized as he glanced at the blue trim on her robes. Not Parvati. Her identical twin, Padma.

"Sure, Padma, what can I do for you?" the Gryffindor asked.

"I've heard you've been lodging complaints against some of the teachers like Snape," the girl replied, looking a little hesitant. "How do you do that?"

"There isn't a particular form you have to fill out or anything. The school bylaws state that you should take any concerns to your head of house first, then to the deputy headmistress, then the headmaster, then the board of governors, in that order. You need to submit a written report of the specific incident in question, with as much detail as possible." Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't had any luck with it, as you can tell from the fact that Snape still works here, but I keep copies of all the complaints I file so that I can prove the school faculty has been negligent."

"My parents said the same thing when I wrote to them," Padma said, sighing heavily. "They said it's best to try to work within the system. If that doesn't work, my father indicated that he would see what he could do at the ministry, but he wasn't optimistic."

"What does your father do?" Harry inquired.

"Let's just say that he's kind of like an ambassador from magical India, and leave it at that," the Ravenclaw replied. "If you want more details, you're going to have to sit through an hour-long lesson on the history of the Mughal Empire, British colonialism before and after the Statute of Secrecy, and the current state of magical India, particularly as it relates to the ICW. There's a lot of background you would need to understand."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied, surprised. "I'm guessing the teacher you're protesting would be Umbridge, given that you mentioned the ministry."

Padma nodded. "I guess the complaint about Umbridge would be that she lets the Inquisitorial Squad run wild without any sort of punishment. A few of them have been harassing one of my friends, but she's kind of shy and doesn't want to make a big deal about it."

Harry sighed, understanding well what she meant. That sort of behavior was sadly commonplace with many members of Umbridge's little goon squad. It was unfortunate for his fellow students, though he had to admit that it was certainly helping to make his anti-ministry efforts look better by comparison. "I've got some copy paper you can have if you need. Like I said, I wouldn't expect any miracles, but maybe Flitwick will be more responsive," he said. "All McGonagall does these days is glare at me when I submit a complaint."

"I've got some of my own, but thank you for the offer." Padma gave him a small smile. "And thank you for the warning. I know not to get my hopes up. It's not like the teachers have done anything yet, and they have to know that the IS is causing problems. But I have to do something. Even if it's just file one more complaint on top of all the others," she finished, her face a bit downcast.

"So how are things going with the learning tree for defense?" Harry asked. "Hermione teaches you, right?"

"Yes, and she's doing a great job. I still can't figure out how she got stuck with all you barbarians in Gryffindor," Padma teased.

"Obviously, fortune was smiling down upon her that day," Harry replied in a similar tone of voice.

* * *

That Saturday, after his weekly meeting with Luna, Harry stayed in the room, practicing some of his own spells. And, as always, he returned to the Gryffindor dorm quite frustrated. _What am I missing?_ It certainly wasn't power, and he was doing his best to think happy thoughts. And yet, his attempts at casting a patronus still produced nothing but a formless white mist.

"Iustitia," he muttered as he drew close to the portrait of the Fat Lady, wondering not for the first time if he should be concerned that the password to enter Gryffindor Tower was the latin word for justice. _Is this Dumbledore's way of warning me that he knows what I did last year?_ The thought was not a pleasant one, but there was no way to determine if he was correct, or simply being paranoid.

He entered the common room to find a large crowd gathered, whispering excitedly, with McGonagall at the center. All eyes turned to look at the green-eyed teen as he entered, to his surprise and discomfort.

Ron was the first to speak. "Harry, mate, can I have a go on it?" the redheaded boy asked.

That seemed to open the floodgate, and people swarmed around Harry, asking questions that the confused boy had no idea how to answer. Finally, the transfiguration teacher approached him, and he realized what all the fuss was about.

"Mister Potter," the stern professor said as she handed the Firebolt to him, "you have a very good friend somewhere out there."

"So, I take it there weren't any jinxes or hexes on it?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

"No, we inspected it thoroughly, but there were no hazardous enchantments to be found," McGonagall reported.

"You mentioned that you might need to strip it down to be sure. Did you do that?" Harry continued, his voice still not betraying any hint of his thoughts.

"Yes, Professors Flitwick and Hooch were quite thorough," McGonagall replied, looking at him a bit suspiciously. "Something for which you should be grateful," she added, her lips tightening disapprovingly at his seeming lack of appreciation for her colleagues' efforts.

"Good to know," Harry replied.

"Well, I daresay you'll need some time to get used to it," the professor said.

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm not using this," the boy replied scornfully. "You just admitted that it was stripped down by two people who had never so much as held a Firebolt before." He scoffed. "I'll be sending it to get checked over by experts _as it should have been from the beginning_."

Silence filled the room as the students processed this. "What about the game next week?" Oliver demanded.

"I'll see if I can rent a broom to use," Harry promised.

This obviously didn't satisfy the Quidditch captain, but before he could object, McGonagall spoke first. "Mister Potter, I assure you that Professors Flitwick and Hooch are perfectly capable of inspecting a broom."

"Flitwick was a dueler before he began teaching, and Hooch played Quidditch," Harry countered. "While they may be skilled in their respective fields, neither of them has any special ability or experience with the level of enchanting that went in to making this broom. And given that the Firebolt is widely known to have a number of proprietary charms, it is clear that I should not be relying on the opinions of two amateurs when I can instead have my new broom inspected by professionals."

Not surprisingly, many students tried to persuade him otherwise, but Harry was not deterred. He brought the broom with him as he went up to his room to write a letter to Quality Quidditch Supplies explaining the situation, then went directly to the owlery, enlisting the aid of several of the school owls to carry the Firebolt, with Hedwig herself being given the letter, of course.

* * *

Harry suppressed a grin the next day as he saw an article in the paper regarding the Foundation for the Future's latest project, an isolated, all-magical village where people would be able to use magic openly. Of course, given the need for Harry and his team to disguise their true intentions, the implication was that it would be reserved for the 'elite' members of society who wanted to get away from the muggles, but also didn't want to have to rub shoulders with the common folk in Hogsmeade, which currently held the title of Britain's sole entirely magical village.

Eventually, people would realize the truth, but by then it would be difficult for the Wizengamot or Ministry to try to go back on the agreements without looking petty or prejudiced.

Harry glanced over at the staff table, eyes narrowing just a little as he caught sight of Umbridge. He still hadn't managed to interrogate the foul woman. When she was at the school, she was almost always in the company of at least a few people, and she left each night after her duties were complete. In fact, she rarely came in on weekends either, today being an exception.

All in all, it made Harry's chances of catching and interrogating the toad-like teacher very slim, to the boy's great frustration.

* * *

Tuesday morning at breakfast, Harry was unsurprised when he received a letter from QQS stating that they had sent the broom on to the manufacturer to inspect. They had also sent a broom for him to use in the meantime, free of charge so long as they could advertise it as having been used by Harry Potter after he returned it, something that made the boy roll his eyes. _Because of course, people would pay more for a broom after I've sat on it._

He had been pleased to see that they had sent a Cleansweep 7, as he had requested. It wasn't the newest broom, but it was the same model that Cedric had, meaning that he and the Hufflepuff seeker would be on an equal footing at the game on Saturday. While he normally wouldn't be concerned with such a Hufflepuffish idea, he did respect the older boy's willingness to lend his broom to Harry at the match against Slytherin, and this seemed like a good way to respond.

He looked up as Luna sat down across from him and began to help herself to the food. It wasn't uncommon to see her at the Gryffindor table. He'd made it clear that she was welcome there, and though many of the students were taking a 'wait and see' approach to the ever-increasing cold war between Harry and the Ministry (including its flunky at the school, Umbridge), none of the other Gryffindors protested Luna's presence.

Today, the normally upbeat girl was looking somewhat subdued, however.

"What's wrong, Luna?" Harry asked concernedly.

His friend sighed. "You've read a lot about the school rules, right? Is it permitted for a teacher to require a student to write lines with a blood quill during detention?"

"What's a blood quill?" Harry asked with a frown.

"A quill that uses the person's blood instead of ink," Luna replied. "It's primarily reserved for signing certain types of magically binding contracts."

"Is it harmful?"

"I don't know," Luna admitted with a shrug. "I've never heard of anyone using a blood quill so extensively. Like I said, it's usually only used to sign your name a few times on a contract, not to write lines for hours." The girl seemed to shrink into herself. "It's painful by the end, though."

Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I know that the bylaws with regard to corporal punishment were changed several decades ago to ban whipping, but I'm not sure if all forms of punishment that cause physical pain or harm were banned, or just whipping specifically. I could look into that, though I'm not sure how much good it would do you. Your only course of action is to file a protest regarding the punishment, and the teachers haven't done anything about any of our other complaints."

He frowned as a thought came to him. "Is it Umbridge that's doing this to you?" Luna nodded. "I didn't know that she was overseeing her own detentions now," the boy mused.

"Maybe I'm just special," Luna said dryly. "The Quibbler's latest edition had some articles that were rather critical of the Ministry. I think that's the real reason I'm in detention."

"I can help you with the complaint if you want," Harry offered, but Luna shook her head.

"I can do it myself," the girl replied.

Harry nodded as he went back to his breakfast, though his mind was whirling as he thought. _So, Umbridge likes to handle detention personally when it's something to do with an attack on her or the Ministry. I can use that._

* * *

"You want me to what?" Peter's voice did absolutely nothing to hide his bewilderment.

"I want you to get one of the others to use a dictaquill to write a scathing letter insulting Umbridge and the Ministry, and sign it 'Harry Potter'," the black-haired teen repeated. "And don't let me know who wrote the letter. Plausible deniability."

There was a moment of silence. "Okay, I'll do that," the older man finally replied, still clearly confused. "I was planning on sending you several reports anyway. I'll include the letter."

"Great, thank you," Harry said brightly as he ended the call and headed toward his first morning class.

* * *

"And how are my favorite Weasley twins doing today?" Harry asked as he sat down on a chair near the infamous pranksters.

Both boys regarded him suspiciously. "We're good," the one on the left said.

"Why do you ask?" the other finished.

"I have a small task that I would like you to undertake for me," Harry admitted, producing the letter with a flourish. "I would like one of you to slip this under the door to Umbridge's classroom this evening. But don't tell me which one of you did it." Another thought occurred to him, and he added, "or, you could get someone else to do it, like Lee Jordan. I don't care, so long as the letter goes under the door and I don't know who put it there."

"Sure thing, Harrikins," the first twin said.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.

* * *

Harry was unsurprised when Umbridge confronted him the next day.

"Mister Potter, two weeks of detention for your vulgar insults against the Ministry!" the loathsome professor screeched.

"What?" Harry asked, hoping that his faked confusion seemed realistic enough.

Umbridge shoved the parchment in his hand. "Did you really think you could write something like this without being punished?"

Harry looked down, barely managed to stifle a laugh at some of the things written. "I've never seen this before in my life!" he protested. "And this isn't even my handwriting!"

"You used a dictaquill to hide your guilt!"

Harry looked at her. _Is she just saying that, or does she really think it was me? _"If I was trying to hide my guilt, why would I have signed it with my own name?" he asked derisively.

"Obviously, you're not as clever as you thought you were," Umbridge remarked snidely as she stormed away. "You'll serve your detention with Professor McGonagall."

Harry frowned. _That wasn't what I wanted._

* * *

Fred and George approached him after lunch that day. "So, Harry, was that about the letter you gave us?"

"Yeah, I wanted detention, but I was hoping it would be with Umbridge, not McGonagall," Harry admitted.

"You wanted detention?" the right twin asked, staring at Harry as though he was some strange creature that had never been seen before.

"It's a long story," Harry replied in lieu of an explanation. "But, I can point out that there is no evidence it was me, and if needed, I can testify under veritaserum that I did not write the letter, I did not deliver it to her, and I had never seen it before she showed me. So, at some point, I'll be able to prove that the punishment was completely undeserved."

"What do you mean, you'd never seen it?" left twin demanded.

"I saw the envelope that it presumably was in, but I never saw the letter itself," Harry explained proudly.

The twins considered this for a moment. "Clever," they said approvingly in unison, before turning to walk away.

Harry sighed as they left. _Well, then, I guess it's time for plan B._

* * *

"Luna, do you still have detention with Umbridge?" Harry asked as he approached the blonde girl.

"Yes, every evening until Wednesday of next week," the girl replied. "Why?"

"Because I would like to take your place on…" Harry thought for a moment. "Monday," he decided.

Luna frowned. "I'm not sure that such a thing is permitted."

"It is if nobody knows it's me and not you," Harry pointed out.

"I see," Luna replied contemplatively. "I assume you intend to use Polyjuice potion, then?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you," Harry said.

"I know the other girls in my dorm are concerned about boys using Polyjuice to see what they look like naked. Some even take a special potion to prevent that." Luna frowned. "Would you use it to see what I look like naked?"

"No," Harry said quickly, his face flushing a little at the idea.

"Okay," his friend replied as she pulled a hair off her head and handed it to him with a smile. "Here you go." She skipped away.

Harry studied the long, yellow hair closely before slipping it in his pocket. Umbridge wouldn't know what hit her.

* * *

Saturday's game against Hufflepuff was much closer than anyone had expected. The Badgers had put together a surprisingly strong team, belying their typical reputation as a bunch of duffers. Even after an hour of play, Gryffindor was only up by 20 points. It was clear that this would be a battle of the Seekers.

Unfortunately for Harry, his borrowed Cleansweep handled just a little differently from what he was used to, while Cedric was fully accustomed to playing on his broom. On the other hand, despite his accelerated growth, Harry was still shorter than Cedric, allowing him to accelerate a bit faster due to his smaller profile. Of course, this also meant that Harry was more impacted by the strong winds sweeping across the pitch.

It was a game that could have gone to either side, and like so many such games, in the end it was a matter of chance. Harry spotted the snitch behind and to the right of Cedric, giving the Gryffindor an advantage as the older teen had to turn before he could begin accelerating toward the small, golden target.

Snitch in hand, Harry landed on the pitch.

"Congratulations," Cedric said genuinely as he landed nearby.

"That was a good game," Harry replied, holding his hand out. "It could have been either one of us."

"We'll have to do it again some time," the Hufflepuff suggested.

* * *

To Harry's surprise, there was a letter waiting for him when he returned from the locker room. He read it quickly, a smile forming on his face as he reviewed the contents. It was not a nice smile.

Glancing at his watch, Harry was pleased to note there was still plenty of time before curfew.

A few minutes later, he was knocking on McGonagall's door.

"Enter," the Scottish teacher called.

"Hello, Professor," Harry began as he opened the door. "I wanted to let you know that I received the report from Bolt Brooms regarding the Firebolt." He handed her the letter. "As you can see, several of the charms were misapplied when Professors Flitwick and Hooch tried to put it back together after dismantling a state-of-the-art broom. Most significantly, the Unbreakable Breaking charm was not properly isolated from the steering control charm, which would have significantly reduced the duration of both charms. In their opinion, it still would have lasted for at least a year, but eventually both charms would have simultaneously malfunctioned, causing the broom to come to an instant stop, likely throwing me off in the process."

Harry was pleased to see the look of shock on the teacher's face, but he pressed on without giving her a chance to reply. "Which, of course, means that in your supposed attempts to ensure the broom was safe, you made it more likely for me to be killed."

* * *

Harry spent the next day reviewing the reports Peter had sent him. Fortunately, while the team was making great progress on their specific objectives, there wasn't much that directly concerned him. He was pleased to note that Peter and Michelle had located a good spot for the basilisk breeding facility down in Brazil. Construction would begin within the month on the outer shell so they could set up the time compression field as soon as possible. It would take several months to finally get up to speed, with Connor's estimate being that the facility would be ready to use sometime in November. Time would be accelerated by a factor of about 300, so they could raise a three-century old basilisk in just a year.

In order to be more productive and provide a steady supply, Peter recommended having space for three basilisks, harvesting one every four months. The first two would be killed early to start the pattern, but even a hundred-year-old basilisk would still sell for a fair fortune. Training the massive snakes to bite on a device designed to collect their venom in order to be fed would greatly increase the quantity of the expensive venom, increasing the profits from the venture.

The facility design was larger than was needed for the three snakes, but after analyzing the demand from the carcass of the Chamber of Secrets basilisk, Malcolm and Dan had recommended against breeding any more than three at a time. Harry hadn't understood the full reasoning, but it was something to do with economics, and how an increased supply of goods led to lower prices and profits without sufficient demand. For now, the extra space would remain unused, though Harry already had some ideas of other animals that could be bred there.

Malcolm had estimated that, once the initial bugs had been worked out and things were running smoothly, they should be able to bring in at least 300,000 galleons per month, though it would obviously be in many different currencies, which could make exchanging the money difficult at times.

Peter had recommended approaching Adrian Greengrass of Greengrass Holdings, one of the larger international companies in magical Britain to work out some sort of a deal regarding the foreign wealth they would be accumulating, but Harry was still a little hesitant. Notwithstanding his son's decision to help Malfoy attack the muggleborns last year, Adrian Greengrass did seem to have a reasonably good reputation and a good track record on the Wizengamot regarding reasonable policies, often holding to a middle ground in between the blood bigots and Dumbledore's lackeys, but Harry was still uncertain about bringing the man into his inner circle, so to speak. Perhaps after Malfoy's crimes had been exposed, and the Foundation's true purpose had been revealed to the public, then Harry could approach Greengrass.

Pushing aside the thoughts this inevitably brought of the exceptionally attractive Slytherin who was secretly giving him information, Harry continued to read.

By most estimates, the total of the incomes of the approximately 8,000 workers in magical Britain was about 350,000 galleons per month. The fact that, provided things went as expected with the basilisk breeding facility, Harry would be making a significant fraction of that wealth, meant that he could have a tremendous impact on magical Britain's economy, which, Dan noted, would likely be necessary to overcome the well-established monopolies that controlled most of the wealth.

_Money wins wars._ It was an age-old truth of which Harry was fully aware. He was glad that he would have enough money to fight back against the corrupt elite who would no doubt try to crush him when they realized what a threat he posed to their position at the top of society. While he would have been willing to use his family fortune if necessary, he didn't want to so casually throw away the wealth that his ancestors had worked so hard to accumulate.

He had no such sentimental aversion to using the money from the basilisk farm, however. Instead, the idea brought a smile to his face. _They won't see me coming until it's much too late,_ the teen thought gleefully.

* * *

The next night, while passing the time before he needed to take Luna's place in the detention, Harry sat in the common room with Hermione and Neville, diligently applying his inner eye to the divination homework in front of him.

"Which sounds like a better reason for me to be attacked by wild man-eating squirrels at Quidditch practice next week: that Jupiter is in the seventh house of Pegasus, or that Saturn has begun its retrograde progression?"

Both his friends looked at him blankly, but it was Hermione that finally responded. "Given that neither of those things makes any sense, I'd say that they're both equally bad."

"Saturn it is, thanks Hermione," Harry said with a smile as he turned his attention once more to the parchment in front of him.

"I cannot believe you get away with just making stuff up like that," she said, glaring at him.

"Hermione, it's _divination_," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "It's just a bunch of made-up stuff. Can you name one prophecy that has come true that wasn't self-fulfilling?"

Surprisingly, it was not Hermione, but Lavender Brown who answered. "The Korrkoricon predicted the establishment of Hogwarts," she said with a smirk. All three of the golden trio turned to look at the normally vapid girl, who was seated on a couch next to Parvati a little way off.

"What?" Harry asked eloquently.

"The Korrkoricon, the oldest book of British history, prophecies and legends, foretold the establishment of Hogwarts," she repeated. "More specifically, it spoke of four great scholars whose houses would endure until the world is broken." The girl gestured to the room around them. "And what do you know? Four founders, each with a house named after them."

"What's that bit about the world being broken?" Neville inquired.

"It's a reference to the Three Woes that will rise up to destroy civilization," Parvati said ominously.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Harry remarked flippantly. "And as for the Hogwarts one, four scholars whose houses endure is pretty vague. Or it could be that they got the idea from the prophecy."

"While I do agree that prophecies tend to be nebulous, that's not the only foretelling that has come true," Hermione replied, to Harry's surprise. "It's believed that Sir Francis Drake was given a prophecy that contained key information that played a crucial role in allowing the English to defeat the Spanish Armada in 1588. According to historians, it was immediately after that event that the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry began collecting and analyzing prophecies, though, of course, very little information about that has ever been revealed to the public."

Harry held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, maybe there's more to divination than I thought. But I've gotta go, so you all can keep talking if you want. Just don't mind me," he said as he packed his books and parchment into his fancy new binder.

Soon he was standing just down the hall from Umbridge's office on the third floor. Taking a deep breath, he drank the potion, trying to ignore the odd sensation as his body rearranged itself to take Luna's form. Quickly transfiguring his school robe to be smaller with blue trim, he strode up to the door and walked inside.

Umbridge was waiting, a malicious smile on her face. "Good evening, Miss Lovegood," she purred, her voice sinister. "Let's see if that lesson can sink in any deeper." The squat teacher pointed to a desk, where a long, black quill had been placed next to a long piece of parchment.

Harry sat down at the desk and began to write, keeping an eye on the professor as he did. He had no idea what lines Luna had been assigned, so he just settled for writing the alphabet over and over. Not surprisingly, Umbridge quickly turned her attention to other matters.

Still pretending to be focused on the task she had assigned, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket with his left hand, then switched it to his right, immediately sending a non-verbal stunner at the despicable teacher, who collapsed in her chair.

Harry grabbed his bag and retrieved a dictaquill and some parchment, which he carefully prepared on the table, then walked over to Umbridge's desk, pulling out a vial of veritaserum as he approached her. Harry smiled as he carefully administered three drops in the foul woman's mouth.

An hour later, the veritaserum finally wore off. Harry was no longer smiling. Instead, the horrified teen was having a hard time keeping from screaming or cursing the revolting witch in front of him.

_I should just kill her and be done with it_, he thought but managed to restrain himself. Umbridge would get what she deserved eventually. But for now, there was work to be done. Things needed to be set right, and there was no time to waste.

Harry dosed the reprehensible teacher with a forgetfulness draught, then woke her up, taking advantage of her confusion to quickly escape the room. He'd had to take a second dose of Polyjuice, so he would look like Luna for another 45 minutes or so, but he had prepared an additional vial of Polyjuice with one of his own hairs, allowing him to regain his normal form, which was very important given that he had his regular detention with McGonagall in just a few minutes.

Fortunately, his head of house had agreed that there was no evidence he was the one who wrote the derogatory letter Umbridge had found, so the transfiguration professor allowed him to do homework during the detention. Tonight, however, he would be concentrating on something else.

Before he arrived at the office, Harry used the communicator to contact Peter. "Can you meet at midnight tonight? I have information; we need to figure out what to do with it. I finally managed to interrogate Umbridge. It's worse than we ever thought."

* * *

A/N –Reviewer DebatorMax requested that I give you all a quick refresher on the OC's that make up Harry's team. Thanks to for the idea.

OC's on Harry's team:

Peter Wilson – 1st team member contacted by Harry. Head Boy 2 years after Harry's parents. Ravenclaw. Runs the show in Harry's absence. Tends to be quiet and thoughtful. General knowledge, quite interested in government and justice.

Chad Pfluegerman – American and proud of it. Always enthusiastic, tends to be a little bit ostentatious during presentations. Focuses on technomancy, runes and arithmancy.

Henry 'Mac' MacArthur – 40+ years of experience years as an Auror, 11 as a hitwizard. Bold and blunt, he'll always call it as he sees it.

Michelle Fairbanks – Studied potions, but couldn't get in as a healer. Returned to Muggle World, worked odd jobs until met husband, they have 2 kids (ages 14 & 18). Particularly interested in history.

Connor Fairbanks – Muggle, but enthusiastic about learning about magic. Has a surprising amount of knowledge of runes and arithmancy. Electrical Engineer, works well with Chad on technomancy.

Ferdinand 'Dan' Falkenson – Comes from a poor pureblood family, similar to Weasleys. Realized early on that he wouldn't be able to get far in the wizarding world, so began learning about the muggle world. Very successfully self-employed as a freelance business advisor/consultant.

Malcolm Prewett – Molly Weasley's second-cousin accountant. Good friends with Dan, who he sometimes works with. He's a squib, but isn't bitter about not having magic, though he did decide it would be best to live in the muggle world.

Heather Wilson – Peter's wife, has a background in education. Doesn't do much with the team, but she does help out now and then.

Other OC's:

Isobel Caron – A French healer who has an independent clinic focusing on strange or unusual cases. Harry goes to her regarding his scar.

Brian Williams (a.k.a. 'Bembe') – Magical specialist with an emphasis in Voodoo, recommended by Healer Caron. He was able to cleanse the soul shard from Harry's scar, and is now helping the team deal with Voldemort's horcruxes.

Anatoli Ivankov – Harry's summer tutor from Durmstrang. Originally taught runes and rituals, but familiar with many other subjects. Retired when Karkaroff became headmaster.

Thomas Monroe – a worker at the Foundation for the Future whose appearance Tonks used to infiltrate a private event. He's not going to appear again.


	24. Chapter 23: Nighttime Rescue

Chapter 23: Nighttime Rescue

Shortly before ten o'clock, Harry finished his detention with Professor McGonagall.

He immediately went to the Gryffindor dormitory, where he pretended to go to sleep. Thankfully, his dormmates were not far behind.

At half past eleven, he quietly climbed out of his bed, pausing to cast a sleeping spell on the other boys just in case. He carefully filled a bowl with blood and placed his necklace in it. Then he snuck out of the dorm, broom in hand. Five minutes later, he was speeding across the grounds, headed for the ward line.

Harry arrived at the small, brick building at a quarter to twelve and was pleased to see that Peter was already there, waiting. He explained what he had learned from Umbridge.

By one in the morning, the whole team had gathered in the conference room.

* * *

"I don't mean to be rude, Peter, but didn't you check all of the arrests and convictions? How did you miss this?" Michelle asked.

If Peter was irritated by the question, he gave no sign. "All I was looking at was the criminal court cases – like you said, the actual arrests and convictions. These people weren't convicted of crimes, they were sued. Civil lawsuits are not subject to as much scrutiny, giving Umbridge the freedom to act with a much lower chance of being discovered."

"How do people wind up in Azkaban if they were sued?" Chad wondered.

"Debtor's prison," Dan replied.

"You guys still have that?" The disbelief in the American's voice was obvious.

Dan nodded. "I know in the non-magical world, it's considered barbaric, but, yes, the magical world does imprison people for failure to pay debts. There is some justification for it, but I'm not going to try to argue the pros and cons; at this point, it really doesn't matter."

Harry nodded. "Like Dan said, right now, we're not discussing the policy of debtor's prison. We'll put that on the list of things to examine at some future date. But we've got people who are in horrible situations – Azkaban or even worse, and we need to figure out how to rescue them."

"You've given us a general idea of what we're facing," Malcolm noted. "Can we get specifics? How many people? What's their situation?"

"I suspect that the easiest for us to deal with, and, in all likelihood, the least critical are three instances of people losing their businesses. They started companies competing with existing businesses. Due to the incredible amount of overhead in the existing businesses caused by family members or friends being given a supervisory position as a sinecure without being expected to do much work, the new businesses were able to offer products or services of equivalent quality at a much lower price. Rather than find ways to make their operations more efficient, the owners of the existing companies filed a suit with the Ministry."

Both Michelle and Connor were taking notes, matching frowns on their faces as they looked up. "There's no legal monopolies in magical Britain, right?" Connor asked, looking over at Dan, who shook his head. "So, what was the basis for the claim?"

"Supposedly, the competitors were using proprietary charms that had been patented," Harry said tersely.

"Surely they would have had to provide some evidence of that," Malcolm objected.

"I would assume so, but I don't know. Of course, with magic, it wouldn't be too difficult to fake something," Harry pointed out. "I do know that, if arbitration fails, civil cases are heard by a panel of three Wizengamot elders. Unfortunately, these elders are selected by the head of the Department of Magical Litigation, a position that Umbridge held for more than a decade."

"Giving her ample time to find like-minded elders who would be willing to go along with her schemes," Michelle realized.

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

"What about appeals?" Connor asked.

This time, it was Peter who had the answer. "Prior to 1983, there was a central office that handled all appeals and complaints related to Ministry actions. However, that was eventually determined to be an inadequate method of dealing with the problem, so the Ministry dissolved that department and instead relied upon each department to handle its own complaints. As I understand it, there should have been someone else in the department keeping an eye on things, but they could have been in on the scheme with her, or bribed, or blackmailed, or just too old or lazy to do their job properly. We'll look into it, but it doesn't matter now."

"Let's get back on topic," Mac growled. "Three people lost their businesses."

"Right," Harry said, nodding in acknowledgment to the old auror. "I don't think that they suffered any further punishment, but we need to double check that. I don't want things to fall through the cracks."

"I should be able to look that up," Tonks offered.

"Thanks, but be careful. I erased Umbridge's memory of the interrogation. We don't want anyone to find out we're looking into it until we know how to respond," Harry cautioned the metamorph.

The young Gryffindor took a moment to gather his thoughts. "The other people who ran afoul of Umbridge were thrown in Azkaban. The story is the same in each case. A rich, bigoted pureblood filed a lawsuit alleging that a muggleborn destroyed a priceless family heirloom. Given the incredibly high value that is typically placed on old, enchanted artifacts, and the Ministry's limits regarding exchanging non-magical currency for magical, it was almost certainly impossible for the individual in question to pay the amount ordered. Given their failure to make proper restitution as decreed by the litigation bench, the muggleborn was sent to Azkaban."

"How many people?" Chad asked, his voice flat.

"Nine," Harry responded heavily before continuing. "Though I don't know how many are still alive. As we've learned, Azkaban doesn't have a good track record regarding inmate health and welfare. In most cases, getting the victim falsely imprisoned seems to have been Umbridge's end goal, however, there were two exceptions."

Harry rubbed his forehead in irritation. "The veritaserum was starting to run out, so I wasn't able to question Umbridge as much about this part, but apparently, Ministry policy when imprisoning someone for failure to pay a lawful debt is that arrangements can be made for the debtor to be released into the custody of a private individual. Said individual buys the debt, and the debtor is required to work for this person or company for a set length of time – indentured servitude, basically one small step from slavery. During that period, the employer has almost complete control over the debtor, taking most if not all of the wages he or she should be paid. This is supposed to be voluntary, but Umbridge arranged for two individuals to be forced into this work release program."

"Shouldn't that be better than Azkaban?" Michelle inquired. "The way you explained that, it's like you think they would have preferred prison."

Harry made no attempt to hide the anger and disgust in his voice as he answered. "The two individuals are women. They are being forced to work at the White Dahlia, a brothel in Knockturn Alley owned by Agamemnon Nott."

Silence followed this declaration.

"Are you saying that Umbridge used the corruption in the government to force women into sexual slavery?" Mac's voice was little more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the dangerous edge of barely contained rage.

"Yes," Harry said simply.

"That's the reason we called you all here tonight," Peter explained. "Getting people out of Azkaban will be difficult. We'll need to approach things carefully to ensure the Ministry doesn't just kill them like they did with Sirius Black. But those women in the White Dahlia need to be rescued immediately."

"We're talking a full-on Hollywood-style rescue, right?" Chad asked. "Go in there guns a-blazing?"

"Unless someone else has a better option," Harry confirmed. "We're not going to let this go on any longer. To be honest, so long as we don't get caught and no innocents get caught in the crossfire, I'd be perfectly happy to burn the place to the ground." He was pleased to see that everyone in the room appeared to be in agreement. This was certainly a large step beyond what they had all signed up for, but there didn't seem to be any hesitation.

"Could we break the people out of Azkaban?" Connor wondered.

Tonks winced. "I would really, really recommend you not try. I don't know much about Azkaban's defenses, but what I do know is enough. You'd need months of prep work with a very skilled team to get through those wards, then you'd have to fight the on-duty Aurors. The prison itself is designed to give the defenders every advantage, and that's not even considering the dementors."

Harry scowled at the mention of the demonic guards of the wizard prison. To his great frustration, he still couldn't cast a patronus, despite having practiced for literally hundreds of hours. Of course, this wasn't the time to focus on that.

Mac stood up, his jaw so tight Harry almost thought he could hear the teeth grinding. "Best to attack it at night, after the customers have left," the bear-like man growled. "We'll need firsthand reconnaissance. I'll go start now. You keep talking. I'll be back in a few hours."

Harry watched the man go. Normally, the former Auror was fairly calm. Now, however, it was clear that he was just barely able to keep his fury under control.

"Mac, one question before you leave. Do you think the people you've recruited for DragonFire can be trusted to help us?" Peter asked quickly.

The old man nodded. "They've all submitted to questioning under veritaserum. None of them have any great love for the Ministry or any sort of blood bias. I made sure of that." He vanished through the doorway.

"Then I guess this will be DragonFire's first official operation," Harry remarked thoughtfully. "Certainly not what I had ever envisioned," he added softly.

* * *

Harry could barely concentrate in class that day. He knew the rest of the team was working frantically, gathering information and making plans. And he was stuck listening to a ghost drone on about goblin wars. It was infuriating.

The worst part was when it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had never been so glad for the boring textbook they were required to read, for it meant that he didn't have to look at the despicable excuse for a human being that pretended to be a teacher. He doubted that he would be able to keep from attacking her if he had been forced to look at the evil smirk on her face, knowing what she had done.

Finally, classes finished, and Harry rushed up to the dorm room, claiming he just wanted to put his carry-all binder away. Checking the message book, he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as he saw a brief update from Peter.

_Mac says clients gone by 2._

_Attack will start at 3._

* * *

For the second night in a row, Harry snuck out of Hogwarts. This time, however, when he arrived at the 'Magical Solutions' office, the place was a bustle of activity. In just twenty-four hours, it had been transformed into a veritable command center, with pictures, building blueprints and diagrams crowding the walls.

Several men in all black, presumably the DragonFire soldiers Mac had recruited, were holding a quiet discussion in one office, while in another room, Chad could be seen showing a small, gun-like object to two women in traditional healer robes. Harry was surprised to see that one of them was Isobel Caron, the French healer who had examined him over the summer. In Michelle's office, she and Tonks were involved in a deep discussion over a pile of paperwork.

"Harry, step in here for a minute," Peter requested, motioning to his office.

Slightly confused, Harry did so, a small expression of surprise crossing his face when Peter shut the door.

The older man walked around the desk and sat down, looking grave. "I thought I should give you a heads up before you talk to Mac. He wants you to participate in the attack."

"Don't I still have the trace on me?" Harry asked, shocked. "That would warn the Ministry as soon as we started."

"According to him, they don't monitor the major wizarding locations. Too many false positives. And the team is hoping not to use any wand-magic at all."

Harry frowned. "How would that work?"

"Chad came up with some… tools," Peter responded. "I'll let him tell you more about them."

"Why does he want me to come along? I still think I would be a liability."

The blond man shrugged. "What he said is that he thinks it would be good for you to get some real experience. I have to admit, I wonder if there's more to it than that, but I don't know what it would be."

Harry stared out the window at the darkness, thinking deeply. "I'll talk with him," the teenager finally decided. "Assuming he has a good argument, I'll go along."

"Okay," Peter said, his voice betraying no indication of his thoughts on the matter. "How are you holding up?"

"Holding up with what?" Harry asked, confused.

"With the fact that you now know who's trying to kill you," Peter replied calmly. "We didn't talk about it last night because we got distracted with more time-sensitive issues, but that's not a small thing."

"I think I already knew. There was just something about her," Harry said, deliberately keeping his voice casual. "At least Umbridge said that she told her pet assassin not to target me anymore, so I don't have to worry about any more attacks for a while. That's nice." In truth, he was a bit more concerned than he let on, but he just didn't have time to dwell on that now.

"To be honest, I'm worried about what else she has planned," Peter admitted, his face tense. "She doesn't strike me as the type of person to just give up."

"No, she's not," Harry agreed, "but she doesn't know that her time is limited. The prison should be finished in a few weeks, then we'll need time to get the prisoners transferred and question them. We should be ready for our big checkmate move before school is out. I doubt she's going to try anything before then. After all, a big part of the Ministry's propaganda about the success of the High Inquisitor position is how much safer the school is now. It wouldn't look good for her if something happened to me while she's in charge of security."

"She might consider a hit to her reputation to be worth the sacrifice to eliminate you."

"Didn't sound like it when I interrogated her. I'll admit, I didn't have time to ask about any other plans, but I don't think she'll try anything too nefarious while I'm at Hogwarts. She'll be gone in a few months. I'll survive that long."

* * *

_There are some major benefits to having a metamorphmagus on the team_, Harry thought as he gazed at the massive stack of paperwork Tonks had managed to acquire. He didn't have time to read it, however, which is why he was listening to the young Auror Trainee and Michelle summarize their findings.

"According to the documentation on the work release agreement, both women were required to work at the brothel for five years," Michelle explained. "Sarah Stevens was sent there less than two years ago, so we're confident that she's still there. The other woman, Alice Fitzgerald, should have finished her term in October. However, we can't be sure that she was actually released. There is a form filled out by an Auror stating that she was freed at the appropriate time, but…"

Tonks picked up where her older colleague had left off. "The Auror we're talking about is your good friend Gibbon, whose name seems to be popping up all over the place in the paperwork related to Umbridge's schemes." The young woman scowled and her hair flashed to red. "Gibbon's a real piece of work. I wouldn't be surprised if she's still being held at the brothel."

"Do we have pictures of them?" Harry asked.

"We've got an old one of Fitzgerald, but we don't have one of Stevens," Michelle replied, holding out a photo of an attractive woman in her early twenties with strawberry blonde hair and dark eyes. "That's from almost seven years ago. We've tried to minimize our investigation on the magical side of things so we don't spook anybody. We managed to track down Fitzgerald's sister in the non-magical world, but we haven't located any family for Stevens."

Harry studied the picture for a moment before handing it back. It was one thing to imagine it in abstract, but to see a person who had suffered horrendously like that… He suppressed the rage he felt before it could grow out of control.

"So, Mac says you're coming with?" Tonks asked.

Any lingering doubt was gone by now. "Yeah," Harry replied, nodding his head.

"It'll be good to have you."

* * *

According to Mac, the White Dahlia had a rather impressive set of wards that were activated each night after the clients left. Harry knew almost nothing about ward-breaking, but supposedly the defenses would be enough to not only warn the guards, but also hold off any attackers for at least ten or fifteen minutes.

Unfortunately for the guards in the brothel, Harry's team had a way of bypassing those wards entirely.

"Shrinking charm just canceled," Mac announced. "Go!"

The first four DragonFire soldiers were already in the vanishing cabinet, so all Tonks had to do was shut the door and they were transported to the matching cabinet she had surreptitiously placed earlier that evening.

When she opened the door, Harry could see that the cabinet was now empty. He, Mac, Tonks, and one other DragonFire soldier crowded in and quickly shut the door behind them. A second later, Mac pushed the door open again, and Harry could see that they were at the bottom of a trunk. As they had planned, the soldier went first, followed by Tonks, then Harry, with Mac at the end. When it was his turn, Harry quickly but quietly scaled the ladder, climbing out of the trunk to find himself in a large room. He could vaguely make out furniture in the heavy darkness, as well as the shapes of the others who had come with him.

Behind him, Mac let out a soft groan as he pulled himself up the ladder. "Getting too old for this," the man muttered softly, then turned and pressed the rune on the trunk, which quickly shrunk down to the size of a thimble.

Harry couldn't help but be impressed by how small Chad had managed to get the transport trunk that held the cabinet. _No wonder they didn't notice it._

"Sound off," the old hitwizard ordered softly.

"One, clear," a man off to Harry's left replied just as quietly.

"Two, clear," another man said.

"Three, clear," came from another.

Harry waited patiently for his turn. "Seven, clear," he said, trying to pitch his voice so that it was audible for all the members of the attack team, but still soft enough to not draw unwanted attention.

"Eight, clear," Mac finished. "One, Two, proceed."

* * *

No one knew how attentive the guards were at night. Perhaps they walked rounds on a regular basis, or maybe they simply relied on the wards. In fact, while planning the attack, the team hadn't even known how many guards there would be. Their intel was limited to what little Mac and Tonks had managed to gather that day.

All Harry could think about was how useful the Marauder's Map would be at that moment, and he resolved to show it to Chad as soon as they were done in the hopes that the enchanter would be able to reproduce it for use in other locations.

The small group crept quietly down the hall to where a light shone from an opening.

Harry shifted his grip on the small, gun-like stunner (one of the 'toys' Chad had supplied for the raid), trying to ignore the nervous anticipation swelling in his stomach. Up ahead, there was just enough light to see One prep a stunner grenade, another of Chad's contributions.

With a nod back to the man behind him, One tossed the grenade into the room. Thanks to the built-in silencing charm on the small object, there was no noise as it hit the ground, but a second later a flash of red light appeared.

Everyone rushed into the room, stunners held at the ready. Two guards were unconscious on the floor in the small room.

"One, Two, secure the hall beyond," Mac ordered. "Three, Four, secure the hall behind. Five, veritaserum."

The guards offered no resistance to the truth potion, revealing all they knew about the building and their colleagues. Soon, the other four guards had been captured as well.

* * *

With the guards neutralized, there was a definite lightening of the atmosphere, but Harry knew that Mac would not allow anyone to break protocol even with the threat supposedly gone. They still used the code-names, and though they had turned on some lights (much to Harry's embarrassment when he saw the pornographic decorations in the brothel) they still spoke softly as they proceeded down the stairs to where the women were being kept.

If there was any remaining doubt that any of the girls were here by choice, that was quickly dispelled when they reached the basement. By Harry's count, there were eleven of them crowded in the small room, with barely enough space to walk between the small, cot-like beds. A few sat up as the door opened, fear evident on their faces even with the dim light.

As planned, Tonks took the lead as the sole female. "I'm turning on the lights," she warned, keeping her voice calm. When she did so, more of the girls awoke, some shrieking softly in surprise. Harry did his best not to stare at the girls, all of whom were naked. With the lights on, he could see that two of the beds were unoccupied, though that mystery was solved when a soft moan came from behind the group. To Harry's disgust, there were two women chained to the wall.

Tonks removed her mask, though she had disguised herself as a rather plain-looking woman in her forties. "We're here to rescue anyone who wants to come," the metamorph said softly.

The startled hope that appeared on the girls' faces was almost painful to see.

"We have a healer waiting for you," Tonks continued, as Mac resized the trunk. "Once you climb down, we have a device that will transport you to our office. We can only take a few at a time. I'll go with each group. First, I need to ask just a few questions." By this time, all the women were watching, eyes wide. Tonks gestured to the two who had been chained to the wall. "Are there keys to those handcuffs, or do the guards just use the unlocking spell?"

"The guards have keys," a blonde woman said softly.

Mac wasted no time. "Five, the guards should have keys to some manacles holding two of the girls," he said into the communicator.

"Copy that," came the reply.

Tonks ignored the distraction. "Are any of you seriously injured?" she continued, looking around the room. Harry was amazed at how well Tonks did at keeping her voice pleasant, even in the face of such a horrible sight.

A few girls responded verbally, but most just shook their heads.

"Are there any other people you know of in the building besides the guards?"

Again, the women shook their heads.

"Okay, let's get you all out of here," the currently dark-haired metamorph said, then placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is my friend, we're calling him Seven for right now. We'll go two at a time through the transporter, starting on this side of the room."

Harry glanced over as the door opened and one of the men in all black appeared, handing a small key to Mac, then disappeared again.

As the old hitwizard freed the two girls kneeling against the wall, Tonks continued to talk. "Seven will help you down the ladder to the transporter, then I'll go with you back to our office. We'll wait for just a few minutes in between. Once there, we'll get you some clothes, but we can't use any magic here so you will need to wait until we are through the transporter. We have a room set up for you where you can wait while our healers examine you to ensure that you are healthy, then we'll figure out where we go from there. If any of you need help reconnecting with family, we can help you. Or, if you want to leave the country, we can help you with that as well. But first, we need to make sure that you're okay." She paused for a moment.

Harry could see the occupants in the room hanging on to her every word, the relief on their faces plain to see. "Alright, let's start with you two," Tonks said, pointing to the girls on the beds nearest to her, who stood and timidly began to walk toward the large, wooden trunk that filled most of the free space in the room.

Tonks climbed down first, then Harry helped the first girl, a skinny, dark-haired teenager, onto the ladder. Without grab bars extending out of the trunk, it could be a little difficult at first to find the correct footing while first stepping into the trunk, especially without practice, so Harry held the girl steady as she went down the first few rungs. Soon, the second woman, a brunette in her twenties, was climbing down as well. When the two women had reached the bottom, Tonks opened the door of the vanishing cabinet and entered, gesturing for them to follow.

"Okay, let's have the next two come over here," Harry said, trying to keep his voice gentle and non-threatening. He forced himself to look down into the trunk as they approached, one apparently unconcerned by her nudity, while the other tried to awkwardly shield her body from view.

Tonks emerged from the cabinet just as the first girl reached the bottom. Soon, the second girl had joined them, and they disappeared into the cabinet.

As Harry gestured for the next two to come over, he saw Mac quietly speaking to the girls who had been chained to the wall, both of whom looked surprised, but they each pulled out a hair and handed it to the man.

As Harry helped the next two girls, a brunette and a red-head in their late teens, climb down into the trunk, he kept an eye on Mac, finally understanding when the man pulled out two vials of potion, then slipped one hair into each. _Oh, Polyjuice. That explains it._

Harry frowned at this thought. _No, actually, that doesn't explain it. Why does Mac need Polyjuice?_ There was no time to ask the question. He'd find out sooner or later, he was sure.

* * *

When all the captives had been safely evacuated, Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief.

It seemed he wasn't the only one that felt this way. The other members of the strike team seemed to relax as well.

"Let's go upstairs and get things ready for the next stage," Mac said as he miniaturized the trunk once more.

They had just arrived in the small security office where Four and Five were keeping watch on the guards when the communicator crackled, and Tonks' voice could be heard. "Come in, Eight," she said.

"Eight, copy," Mac replied immediately.

"We have names for the girls now. Sarah Stevens is here, but Alice Fitzgerald is not. They remember her, and think that she was released, but we should verify that with the guards."

Mac glanced over at Five, who nodded. "Copy, Six," the old man replied.

"The serum should still be working on this one," Five said as he switched the mode on his stunner and revived the man.

"Was a woman named Alice Fitzgerald held here?"

"There was a woman named Alice. Don't know if her last name was Fitzgerald," came the reply, though Harry was surprised. A person under veritaserum usually spoke in monotone, but there was some definite emotion in the man's voice.

"What did she look like?"

"Light red hair. Dark brown eyes. Short. Big tits, with nice cherry red nipples." The man smirked.

"I think the veritaserum's wearing off," Mac muttered.

Five inspected the man for a moment before replying. "He'll still be forced to tell the truth for a few more minutes. But more of his personality will come through, and we'd better make it quick."

"Where is she?" Mac demanded.

"Dead," the man replied, still grinning eerily.

"How?" Mac asked angrily.

"Her time was up. Boss claimed he let her go, but he let the special clients bid on who would get to kill her."

"Do you know who it was that killed her?"

The man shrugged. "No, but I heard they made a real mess of the filthy cunt before they finished her off."

At this, Harry wanted nothing more than to kill the man, but Mac remained calm. "Which guard has worked here the longest?"

"Septimus," the man replied.

"Which one is that?"

"The tall one on the right."

Mac's only reply was to shoot the man with the stunner once more. "Take this one and… Septimus… downstairs to the room where the girls were kept," he ordered.

* * *

While the other members of the team were busy spreading flammable potions around the brothel to ensure it burned quickly, Harry found himself in the basement with Mac.

"Do you know why Polyjuice is one of the biggest problems for aurors in a murder case?" the old man asked conversationally.

"Because it makes information gathered from witnesses practically worthless?" Harry tried.

"Well, that's true any time. But a little-known fact about Polyjuice is that when a person dies while under the transformation, they stay that way. It can make it almost impossible to be sure that the body you're looking at is really the one you think it is. There have even been cases throughout history where the person the aurors thought was the victim was in fact the murderer." He pulled out the vials of Polyjuice he had prepared, then ripped off the clothes of the guards that had been brought down before pouring the potion down the men's throats.

Soon, to all appearances, the two girls who had originally been chained to the wall were back where they had started.

"So, we're going to leave them to burn?" Harry asked, surprisingly calm with the idea.

Mac grunted. "As much as I would like them to suffer, it would be best to kill them now. No chance of them escaping through some sort of accidental magic. This place is probably warded against such, but no reason to take chances." He grabbed a piece of robe from the floor and twisted it to form a crude rope, which he held out to the teenager. "I'm not going to force you to, but it would be good for you to do it."

Harry stared at the man. "Why?"

"Because this is just the beginning. You've got big plans, and people like the Death Eaters aren't just going to let it happen, so sooner or later, you will have to fight for your life. Chances are, you'll have to kill them. And the first time you take a life, it's difficult. I know that from my own experience. I don't want you panicking in the middle of a fight because you just killed a man. These… sick pieces of shit deserve to die. You might as well get some practice out of it. It'll be the only worthwhile thing they've ever done."

Harry didn't say a word, but he took the makeshift rope.

As he positioned it around the first man's neck, he had to pause to remind himself that despite the guard's current appearance, he was a hardened criminal who had participated in the rape and murder of innocent women.

With this thought held firmly in mind, Harry found it surprisingly easy to pull the rope tight.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the other four guards had been transported to the Magical Solutions office, from where they would then be taken to the hunting lodge for further interrogation. Tonks, who would be taking the shrunken trunk out of the brothel under the guise of one of the guards, had reappeared, looking much less calm now than she had when she was escorting the girls to safety. Harry wondered if she had been using her abilities to hide the rage she felt. If so, it had been a good decision. An angry metamorphmagus was truly an intimidating sight.

And now, it was time to leave.

Flames licked hungrily on the walls as the fire spread rapidly, consuming the opulent decorations. And as he watched it burn, a feeling of deep satisfaction welled up inside Harry. He knew that the sudden destruction of a brothel owned by Nott would make people suspicious, especially the escaped Death Eaters that were the whole focus of the Foundation for the Future scheme. It might make things more difficult for his plans later on down the line. But it didn't matter.

As he climbed down into the trunk and entered the cabinet, a grim smile stole across his face.

No matter the consequences of their actions here tonight, it was worth it.

* * *

A/N - Sorry for missing last week. Things got crazy with family coming up for the 4th.

As those of you that have read my Naruto/Song of Ice and Fire crossover 'Of Steel and Chakra' may have noticed, I apparently have a thing for burning down brothels. I'm not quite sure what that says about me as a person... :)


	25. Chapter 24: Justice for All

Chapter 24: Justice for All

"_No… please. I'm innocent. You don't understand," the 'girl' cried._

_Harry was unmoved. "I understand everything I need to. You're a murderer. You helped rape and kill innocent women. And now, you're going to pay."_

_His victim continued to beg and plead, but Harry didn't pay any more attention. He looped the makeshift rope around 'her' neck and pulled it tight. There was a distant part of his brain that found it amusing as the face in front of him gradually turned colors, first to red, and then to blue. Finally, the struggling stopped, and Harry felt a grim satisfaction at having administered long overdue justice._

_A noise behind him drew his attention, and Harry turned to see Mac standing in the doorway, looking horrified. "Harry, what did you do?" the former Auror demanded._

_Harry was confused. "I killed him, just like you said."_

_Mac shook his head. "I haven't brought the guards down yet," the man whispered. "That was one of the girls."_

_Harry shook his head. "No, he just looks like one of the girls. It's Polyjuice."_

"_No," Mac said as he opened the door further to reveal two guards unconscious on the floor. "These are the guards. You killed an innocent girl."_

"_No, that's not… he was… you said…" Harry tried to deny the accusation, but the words just wouldn't come._

"_You killed an innocent girl," Mac repeated, drawing his wand up slowly, pointing it at Harry._

"_NO! He was a murderer!" the boy insisted, nearly in tears._

"_And now you're a murderer, too," the corpse at his feet whispered._

* * *

Harry bolted upright with a shout, panting heavily. "Lights on," he said after a moment.

The room came slowly into view as the glow above him gradually brightened, revealing the room in Timeland that Harry normally stayed in. With a sigh, the young teen threw off the covers and exited the comfortable bed, walking slowly out of the room and to the kitchen area.

While his employees had all stayed at the office to finish the various tasks associated with the raid such as interrogating the captive guards and debriefing the rescued women, Harry had immediately returned to Hogwarts and taken advantage of the time compression field to catch up on his sleep. After all, unlike the others, he still needed to go to class in just a few hours, and if he were obviously tired the morning after the attack, it might lead someone like Umbridge to start asking questions for which he didn't have a good answer.

After helping himself to a glass of cold water, he slumped down on one of the chairs, doing his best not to think about the dream. He knew Mac was correct, that it was better to go through this now, rather than risking freezing when he was forced to kill someone in a true life or death situation, but a logical argument like that wasn't much use at warding off the nightmares.

The fact that the guards had been wearing the faces of innocent girls certainly didn't help matters.

Running his fingers through his hair tiredly, Harry glanced over at the clock. _Quarter past five. Neville will be getting up soon for our morning exercises._ 'Soon' was, of course, a very relative term, given that more than a day would pass in Timeland before his friend would be awake. Still, there was no reason to spend hours in the vault when he could instead just wait for a few minutes in the real world.

* * *

Harry was unsurprised to see that news of the attack had not made it into the paper. Doubtless, it would be tomorrow's headline, though. He was relieved when he received a message from Peter saying that Tonks had helped process some of the evidence from the crime scene and had confirmed that the Aurors were completely baffled. They could tell that it had been a deliberate attack, but the investigators knew nothing beyond that. And of course, finding two 'female' corpses chained to the wall in the basement had resulted in the Aurors asking Agamemnon Nott some very pointed questions. It was unlikely that he would be imprisoned for it (given that the guards had 'absconded' and there was no proof he had known how the girls were treated) but having the DMLE watching his every move would undoubtedly make things difficult for the man.

The day passed like any other as Harry trudged from one class to another, then spent a few hours working on homework in the common room, silently dreading the approaching night and the nightmares that would undoubtedly return.

* * *

To Harry's shock, the attack on the White Dahlia was not the headline article in the Daily Prophet the next day. Instead, it had been relegated to page four. Harry was unsurprised to see that, while the discovery of the bodies was included, the paper made no mention of the circumstances in which the corpses were found.

In _Veritas_, however, it was a different story. And since every household in magical Britain was still receiving a free copy (though that would be ending soon), Harry was sure that there would be an uproar.

As he read the article, he wondered if the women they had rescued had decided how they wanted to proceed with their lives. After some discussion, they had finally been given three options: take a memory potion that would erase their memories of the raid and be permitted to return to their families, sign a contract ensuring their silence on the matter and start a new life in a different country, or choose to stay and help.

A horrified exclamation from Hermione revealed that she had finally started reading the more truthful report of the attack on the brothel and what investigators had found. Not surprisingly, those students who had already read the article were quick to tell their fellows about it, and before breakfast was over, that seemed to be all anyone was talking about, much to the obvious discomfort of Theo Nott over in Slytherin.

* * *

Though he continued reading reports from Peter, it wasn't until the weekend that Harry finally met with his team again. By then, all of the women had decided their future, with most taking the option of starting over in Canada or America, though two had elected to stay and help fight back against the Ministry. While his friends were at Hogsmeade, Harry snuck out of the castle and portkeyed down to the office in the outskirts of London.

"So," Harry began. "We've all had a few days to think about the raid. What are your thoughts? What worked well? What do we need to improve on?"

Michelle spoke first, though not to answer any of Harry's questions. "Before we get too far into that, I just have to ask, are we thinking about attacking Azkaban? Aren't there still seven men being imprisoned unjustly?"

"Only four of them are still alive," Tonks said softly, shaking her head. "But I still don't think that we can pull it off. The brothel was easily accessed and barely defended. Neither of those descriptions fit Azkaban."

"I was discussing things with my wife last night, and Heather pointed out that we already know how to get those people out," Peter stated. "The exact same way Nott got Stevens and Fitzgerald out. Pay the debt, and they have to work for us."

Harry sat upright, startled. He'd been concerned about the idea of attacking the wizarding prison, but also didn't want to leave innocent people to that fate. _I can't believe I didn't think of that._ It seemed so obvious in hindsight.

Connor frowned. "Won't that raise some questions about why we want to get them out? If it was just to get employees, it would be much cheaper for us to just hire someone."

"Unless we want them for tasks that most people wouldn't agree to voluntarily," Peter countered. "We talked about starting a research and development company to use for creating new products as part of our attempt to 'modernize' the wizarding world. We could imply the company also has a spell division that needs people to test new spells on. That seems like the type of thing the blood bigots would just love. So long as we don't tell the corrupt ministry officials that the only thing the prisoners will really be doing is testing our new tv-capable comm mirrors and other things like that, we should be fine."

"That's… a very good suggestion," Dan commented after a moment. "But won't people be suspicious so soon after the attack on the Dahlia?"

"We could claim that was what gave us the idea," Malcolm suggested. "We heard rumors about how those girls wound up working there and decided to investigate it to see if there was any truth to it."

"And if an Auror like Gibbon investigates to make sure that the prisoners are being treated 'appropriately'?" Connor asked, though he now looked much more optimistic about the idea.

"I'm sure the men would be willing to pretend that they're being tormented and exploited during the inspection," Chad replied, gesturing as though waving the concern aside. "Five minutes of acting on occasion to be free from Azkaban? That's a small price to pay."

"This won't be a long-term thing," Peter added. "Just until we make the move with the Foundation. After that, everyone will know the truth about us, so there won't be any need for such pretense."

Harry had heard enough. "I like it. Make contact with whoever heads the Department of Magical Litigation these days. Just do your best to ensure they don't think it has anything to do with the Foundation so if this does backfire somehow, at least our main operation is still on track."

"Will do," Peter replied with a nod.

"I'm glad that we have a way to get those men out of prison without having to actually attack Azkaban," Harry said, "but, while I hope it is never necessary, I want us to be capable of such an action in the future." He took a deep breath. "However, it's clear that we've got a long way to go before we're at that level. So, let's start with where we are at. What are your thoughts on the raid?"

"I've got a list of tools that would be very helpful for future operations," Mac said, speaking up for the first time that night. "Not sure they're all feasible, but I'd like Chad and Connor to take a look."

"Tools like what?" Michelle asked.

"Better communicators with a built-in silencing system so that we can talk freely without being overheard unless we want. Enchanted glasses or visors, both to protect the eyes, and to see through walls. They could also turn opaque to block those flashbang grenades Chad made, since stun grenades aren't always the best option. Things like that."

"There are spells to let you see through walls?" Connor's voice was filled with awe.

Mac nodded. "They can be blocked, but to do so requires a fairly expensive alchemical potion. Higher end clothes are generally treated with it, and the exterior walls in some buildings, but most people don't bother with interior walls."

"I've been wondering about creating some sort of combat suit for quite a while now," Harry mentioned, adding on to Mac's idea of new tools. "My main thought was to have shields to defend the wearer, but there are plenty of other useful enchantments that could be added as well. For example, if it had an air filter, or a self-contained air supply, we could use aerosolized potions. Delirium Draught, for example, is almost invisible as a gas, allowing us to take out whole rooms full of people without any trouble."

"We could probably spend hours coming up with new ideas," Chad pointed out. "I'll put a box outside my office, and if anybody has ideas, just drop them in and I'll put some time into figuring out which ones might work."

"That's a good idea," Harry agreed. "So, besides fancy toys, what else would be helpful?"

"We need healers of our own," Malcolm added. "Healer Caron was wonderful, but it would be very foolish to rely on her all the time."

Peter frowned in thought. "Michelle, weren't you interested in becoming a healer?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "I was, but that was many years ago, and I stopped trying to study after I was rejected at Saint Mungo's. I wouldn't be any more qualified than anyone else here."

"Sarah Stevens was a trainee healer," Tonks recalled. "She thought that's why the Selwyns targeted her, she beat out Cassianna Selwyn for a spot in the program."

"She's one of the two that decided to join us, right?" Harry asked. When Tonks nodded, he continued, "then talk to her, and if she's interested, we'll arrange for her to get whatever additional instruction she needs. Even if we have to send her out of the country to get it."

"We need a dedicated DragonFire facility," Peter stated. "Working out of this office was fine for a one-time thing, but it would be far more effective if they had their own place."

Harry nodded. "We got approval from the Ministry for a new magical community, but we haven't done anything yet. Let's change that – find a place, and start getting it warded. We don't know all the different buildings we would want, but a training and operations center for DragonFire and a hospital are obvious ones."

Not surprisingly, Connor was the first to speak up about what had originally been his idea. "I've been giving some thought to the wards, and I have some ideas I'm developing right now that would greatly strengthen them, and give us more options for a solid defense. I'll need more time to run the experiments, but if it works like I expect, it'll be a game changer."

Harry nodded. "Okay, we'll hold off on the wards until you're ready, but we should start looking for a place now. Are there any requirements we should be looking for?"

"We need it to be out in the middle of nowhere, don't we?" Dan said. "That kind of limits our options."

"And isn't there something about the closer you are to a leyline, the stronger the wards?" Malcolm added, looking at Connor.

The warding expert nodded. "Traditionally, that is the case, but if my theory pans out, it shouldn't be an issue. Still, even if my theory is incorrect, there isn't enough of a difference for proximity to a leyline to be a major factor in a decision of where we decide to set up shop. You can establish strong wards anywhere in the world. I think that making sure we are appropriately isolated from non-magical society would be the more important issue."

"Agreed," Peter said. "I can start looking into possible locations. Of course, it will depend on how much land we're trying to buy."

Harry groaned. "Yeah, that makes sense. And I have no idea how much we'll need." He rubbed his forehead. "Alright, Connor, Peter and anybody else who's interested, start discussing what we want out of our little community. How much space will we need? What kind of buildings do we want? What defenses do we need? Hammer out a solid plan for this. We'll discuss it the next time I come, hopefully over Easter break."

A general murmur of assent filled the room.

"Okay, I can't stay for too long today, so let's move on. There's a few outstanding items I'd like to address. Where are we on the search for the fourth leader of Equitas? David Miller, was that his name?"

"Möller," Michelle corrected. "And we haven't had any luck. That's a German name. He may have moved out of the country. I can keep looking, but I'm not sure it's worth the time."

"No, that's fine," Harry said with a sigh. "Have there been any developments on the Horcrux hunt?"

Peter shook his head. "Nothing of note. We're making a list of any location that might be significant to Riddle, but that's a bit of a long shot."

_At least the Foundation for the Future is going better than this,_ Harry thought with a mental groan before moving on to the next topic. "We decided to wait on using _Veritas_ to start exposing corruption in the Ministry until we had a good number of stories. With the information I got from Umbridge, I think we're at that point. We can cover the crimes, then do exposés on the Ministry officials involved as well as stories focusing on the victims, etc. There should be plenty of content for us the drag this out for well over a month."

"Yes," Chad said emphatically. "I was actually going to suggest the same thing. The free trial period will be up in two weeks. Unless we want to extend that, which," he added, "I think might not be a bad idea, but if not, we need to start running those articles now before our readership drops."

"Extend the trial," Harry decided. "Money isn't an issue. Make it known that we are doing this as a public service to expose the corruption in the Ministry."

"We should probably wait until the four men in Azkaban are in custody per the work release program," Peter suggested.

Harry groaned. "I didn't even think about that."

"Well, I doubt it will take long," Peter said bracingly. "Chad's people can start work on the articles so we have them ready once the men are free."

"You know, Fudge might push to shut down the paper if we start making direct accusations against one of the top people in his administration," Tonks warned.

"Let him try," Chad scoffed. "There's nothing that ties back to us or to the Foundation, and I've got the printer set up in a large crate with a built-in shrinking charm and a backup printer just in case. If they try to raid the Veritas office in Diagon, we can be out of there in thirty seconds. The only thing that would do is just add more fuel to the fire."

"What about the reporters?" Dan asked.

"They all use pennames, and signed binding secrecy contracts. And I did warn them that we would eventually start attacking the Ministry. I'll remind them to be prepared, but unless the Aurors actually arrest them while they're out interviewing someone, there shouldn't be a problem."

"Still, it would be best to have some advance notice," Harry said thoughtfully. "Tonks, if you would please keep an ear to the ground."

The metamorphmagus nodded, and Harry looked down at his list. "Alright, next item…"

* * *

A smile crossed Harry's face as the dark-haired teen snuck back into Hogwarts, undetected as usual. _I'm not sure if that means that I'm really sneaky, or if it just means that the security at Hogwarts is abysmal. _He had to chuckle at that thought. _Probably both._

He greeted his friends cheerfully when they returned from Hogsmeade an hour later, waving aside any questions of how he spent the time by claiming to have been practicing some spells on his own.

At dinner that night, however, he did notice that Umbridge seemed to be glaring at him more than usual, a fact that he found moderately disturbing.

_Oh well, let her glare. She'll have plenty to draw her ire soon._

* * *

Harry was relieved when it only took a few days to arrange for the four muggleborn being held in Azkaban for unpaid debts to be released into the care of a new company called 'Magical Innovations'. Apparently, Umbridge's replacement at the litigation office had found the idea of using mudbloods as test animals to be incredibly amusing, and had pushed the paperwork through without any objection. The fact that he was paid an additional two hundred galleons certainly didn't hurt, either.

Harry and his team waited for a few more days just to make sure nobody noticed the coincidental timing between the articles and the men being released into their care. Finally, the Monday just before Easter holidays began, _Veritas_ began the attack.

As Harry had hoped, the whole student body was whispering animatedly about the front-page articles at breakfast. Chad and Peter had chosen well, building on the earlier report about the attack on the White Dahlia. They revealed how Nott and Umbridge had used the work release program to force the two women into sexual slavery, though they held back on the details of how they had originally been imprisoned and the other victims of the sordid scheme for later editions.

Still, just the facts that they had included were enough, and Umbridge (who made a show of refusing to read the non-ministry-approved paper) was soon being glared at from every corner of the room, including from the other teachers themselves.

"Why is everyone staring at me?" The toad-like woman demanded when she finally took notice of the hostility being directed at her.

"Perhaps you should read it for yourself," McGonagall said as she threw the paper in the High Inquisitor's direction, clearly struggling to contain the urge to draw her wand and start firing spells.

Umbridge paled as she read, then looked around the room desperately. "Lies," she croaked. "All lies. They… they chose to work there."

"I taught those girls," an enraged Flitwick roared. "I cannot imagine either of those young women choosing such a life."

"Nor can I," Sprout agreed.

Realizing that nobody bought her excuses, Umbridge beat a hasty retreat, all but running for the doors.

_And that's just the beginning, _the Gryffindor thought with a smirk.


	26. Chapter 25: Accusations

Chapter 25: Accusations

Harry didn't even bother trying to hide his grin as he glanced at the headlines in the paper.

_Government in Turmoil_

_Riots Continue – When will it stop?_

_Minister defends Undersecretary, but many remain unconvinced_

Not surprisingly, the blood bigots had quickly closed ranks in shutting down any talk of an open investigation into Umbridge, likely due to the large amounts of incriminating information she held over them. Instead, Fudge had announced that a task force of dedicated Aurors specially chosen for their diligence and integrity would conduct a thorough inquiry. But that wasn't enough to satisfy the population at large.

Of course, if one were to read only the _Daily Prophet_, they would get the message that all was well, as the older newspaper was careful to follow the Ministry's line, downplaying the accusations and being quick to point out that there was little real evidence being offered. Fortunately, _Veritas_ was there to tell the true story. And as the Ministry continued to deny the claims, _Veritas_ printed more and more evidence to support their reports, including copies of the paperwork involved.

Umbridge herself hadn't been seen in Hogwarts since she ran from the Great Hall earlier that week. Officially, she still retained the posts of DADA instructor and High Inquisitor, but, in her absence, the students had been mostly left to themselves. It irritated Harry that the Hogwarts faculty hadn't been more decisive about the current situation. The Inquisitorial Squad was still allowed to remain in operation, though most were keeping their heads down, and there hadn't even been any word on a replacement teacher for class. Defense class had turned into a free period, with students not even bothering to show up.

Setting the paper down, he stood with a sigh. He'd agreed to meet Neville and Hermione in the library for one last study session before the Easter holidays, though now he was regretting it a little bit. He just couldn't focus on mundane schoolwork when there was so much to be done out in the real world. Still, he had to play the part of a dutiful student, if only to keep Dumbledore from growing suspicious about just how much power and influence Harry had accumulated despite the headmaster's interference.

Neville and Hermione were already hard at work when he finally arrived, taking a seat next to Neville at one of the tables in the back corner of the library.

"So, what are we doing today?" Harry asked.

Hermione, as usual, had taken charge of the study sessions. While Harry still had to remind her from time to time that he could make his own decisions, in this case, he felt it was best to just go with the flow. His female friend did have an excellent ability for planning and organizing, after all, and she had read a number of books relating to how the brain most effectively retained knowledge, so her study schedules had detailed plans to ensure plenty of time revising for maximum efficiency. Or, at least, that's what she said, and Harry certainly didn't have any knowledge to contradict her.

"We're going to be covering History for the first thirty minutes, then we'll switch to Transfiguration. After that, I'd like to talk with Harry about Divination for a while," the bushy-haired girl stated.

"You want my thoughts on Divination?" To say that Harry was surprised was an understatement of epic proportions. Neville appeared to share in his shock, judging by the incredulous look he was giving the girl.

"Well, you are in the class, and we will be tested…" Hermione's voice trailed off.

"Why are you still taking that class, Hermione?" Neville inquired.

Hermione squirmed just a little, and a slight blush came to her cheeks. "Well, I might have had some doubts in the beginning, but I do have to agree that there is some validity to it. After Parvati and Lavender's comments from a while back, I started looking into famous historical prophecies, and there is a strong case to be made that Divination has had a major impact on our history. In fact, I found a number of interesting reports of books of prophecy that were held in great esteem in the past. In fact, reports of one of them has even survived in non-magical culture as well. For example, I hadn't realized that _The Book of Three_, from Lloyd Alexander's _Chronicles of Prydain,_ was actually based on a legend of a book of prophecy which some historians state was one of the clearest treatises on Britain's future, though, unfortunately, the book itself has been lost. But the fact that it, in all likelihood, did exist at one point suggests that…"

Harry cut her off. "Hermione, you're babbling. You've gotten a little better at lying over the past few years, but you're still not that good. You can't fool us. What's the real reason?"

Hermione glared at him for a moment before relenting as she let out a sigh. "You're right, even if there is some merit to the subject as a whole, it's clear that class with Trelawney is a waste of time. I've been thinking more and more lately about dropping the class, but at the beginning of the year, Trelawney claimed that she had foreseen that 'around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever'," the girl quoted in a surprisingly good imitation of the ominous, breathy tones their teacher used. "I'm going to hold on until the end of the year so that she can't say that her vision of the future was correct," the girl finished with a frown.

Harry had to stifle a laugh at that. It was such a Hermione thing to do.

It was Neville who broke the awkward silence at their friend's admission. "Well, we're supposed to be reviewing history. How do we want to do this?"

"I thought it would be good for us to go around in a circle and each of us asks the other two a question from the material Professor Binns has covered in class," Hermione said quickly, eagerly grasping the change of subject. "I'll start. Neville, what was the most unusual aspect of the Goblin Rebellion of 1587?"

The blond boy frowned in thought. "Was that the one with the young, non-magical woman of great strength and combat ability who turned the tide during the fighting in London, completely disrupting the goblin offensive?"

"Correct," Hermione replied with a nod. "Harry, your turn to ask a question."

Harry frantically flipped his binder open to the correct section and looked for a good question. "Okay, what building was used as the base of operations for the wizards during the rebellion of 1612?"

* * *

Time passed quickly, and soon they were headed back to Gryffindor Tower. They hadn't taken more than a dozen steps, however, when an angry voice stopped them.

"Potter, did you really think you could get away with that? Did you think no one would see?"

Harry turned, confused, to find Daphne Greengrass glaring at him. "Open your muggle contraption," she ordered with a sneer.

Though he was thoroughly puzzled, Harry complied without comment. He knew that Greengrass was just acting. She had, after all, been slipping him pieces of information all year long, though he doubted that she knew he knew that she was the one.

Greengrass snatched the binder from his hands and opened one of the zipper pouches, pulling out a rather nice quill he had purchased during one of his trips to Scrivenshaft's in Hogsmeade over the summer. "You stole this," the girl accused him, "and don't try to deny it." She placed the quill in her bag, then handed the binder back to Harry. "That will be thirty points from Gryffindor." She smirked. "You should be more careful with your possessions. Double check to make sure that you don't have anything else that doesn't belong to you. It would be such a shame if Gryffindor's Golden Boy were arrested for petty theft," she finished with a sneer as she turned and walked away.

"What was that about?" Hermione wondered as the trio watched the Slytherin leave.

Harry made no response, though he had a suspicion.

"Well, we should get back to the tower," Neville finally said, sounding a little shaken. Harry remembered that his friend had said that he and Daphne were on good terms when they were younger, and wondered what it must be like to see people you had known as young children take such different paths in life. Of course, if his suspicions were correct, Daphne's chosen path wasn't quite as far from their own as his friends might think.

They finally arrived at the tower, and Harry wasted no time going up to the dorm away from the curious glances of the common room, with Neville and Hermione following him confusedly. He checked quickly to ensure that they were alone in the room, then opened the binder, inspecting the zippered pouch Daphne had searched.

Not surprisingly, a small, folded piece of parchment had been left inside.

Hermione and Neville gasped in understanding, as Harry began to read.

_Potter,_

_Yes, I'm your secret informant. I'm guessing you already figured that out._

_Umbridge has been in contact with the Inquisitorial Squad and is planning something with Pansy Parkinson. I don't know what, but it won't be good for you. Be careful._

* * *

Harry kept a close watch on the Slytherin table the next morning at breakfast. As he had expected, Pansy Parkinson was glancing over at him more frequently than normal, and her expression could only be described as a malicious smirk.

Daphne had been correct. Parkinson was up to something. The question was what, and when would she act?

Harry frowned in thought. Tomorrow, most of the students would be leaving for the Easter holidays, though Harry would be staying, along with Hermione and Neville, to Harry's surprise, as the blond boy usually returned home at Easter time. Would Parkinson be staying as well? That seemed unlikely. Most of the Slytherins spent the Easter holidays with their families, though many of them called it something else. Harry couldn't remember what, though. Beltane, perhaps?

He gave up on that train of thought. Magical holidays didn't matter – only the present threat. He would need to be on guard. If she did plan to act before leaving for the holidays, Parkinson had twenty-four hours to act.

* * *

Class that day was a dull affair. Everyone was too focused on the upcoming break to pay much attention in classes, and the teachers knew it. He had finished Divination (once more rolling his eyes as Hermione made a lame excuse to sneak off so she could use her time-turner) and was looking forward to food, idly wondering if a real foreteller would be able to predict what Pansy was planning.

Harry was walking toward the Great Hall for lunch when the hairs on the back of his neck stood. He was being watched, he knew it, though he couldn't say for sure how he knew. He paused, his hand slowly drifting to his wand, when a flash of light in the corner of his eye had him diving to the ground, safely dodging the spell that had nearly hit him. He was surprised to note that it had not been anything particularly harmful, just a stinging hex, but that didn't mean anything. There was no reason to assume that his attacker wouldn't use a more dangerous spell next.

He kept his wand at the ready as he moved forward toward the side corridor where the spell had come from, glancing around him occasionally to ensure he wasn't ambushed. He spun around the corner, wand pointed with the incantation for a stunner on his lips. But there was no need. The narrow hallway was deserted.

Harry frowned as he noticed something on the ground. Still cautious of a trap, he moved to pick up the object, nearly dropping it in shock as he recognized the item.

A scrap of paper had been pinned underneath, and he picked it up as well. His mind raced as he read the short message.

_You're going to need this._

He recognized the handwriting. How could he not? After all, it was his own.

He looked once more at the object in his hand, one of the magical flashbang grenades Chad had created for DragonFire, already charged, primed and ready to detonate.

A thousand thoughts flashed through the dark-haired teen's mind, all of which boiled down to one question. _What in the name of Merlin is going on here? _

* * *

Harry entered the Great Hall, trying not to let anyone see the concern he felt. He had several theories about what was happening, and none of them were good.

Still, he tried to act normal, though it was clear from the looks Hermione and Neville were shooting him that he wasn't succeeding as well as he had hoped.

It was just after he had finished his first plate that the main doors to the Hall opened, and all conversation ceased. Students looked up to see the Pink Toad herself enter, a triumphant sneer on her face as she gazed in his direction, followed by the entire Inquisitorial Squad and two Aurors, all of them with wands drawn.

Harry glanced over at the head table where the professors sat. Not surprisingly, while they all seemed surprised and, in some cases, angry, none of them said anything. In fact, though he obviously couldn't prove it, Harry got the impression that Dumbledore was very deliberately _not_ looking his way.

_I guess that means I'm on my own here,_ the teen realized.

"Harry Potter, come here," Umbridge ordered, much to the surprise of most of the occupants of the room.

Harry considered ignoring the command, but quickly decided that it would be best to play along for now. "Why, Professor Umbridge, what a pleasant surprise to see you here again," he said with a smile. "I feared we wouldn't have that opportunity after you fled the premises when news of your actions was revealed."

He felt a swell of satisfaction as the loathsome woman's face reddened at the reminder of earlier embarrassment.

"I have been cleared of all wrong-doing by a thorough investigation, and will once more be filling my duties here at Hogwarts," Umbridge stated in a simpering voice, speaking loudly enough for everyone to hear. "As for the fraudulent claims in the propaganda piece that ironically claims the name 'Veritas', they have all been shown to be misunderstandings at best, and outright lies at worst. As such, that poor excuse for a newspaper has been banned by the Ministry, as it is clearly the work of subversives intent on undermining the very government that protects our great society."

It was clear that the majority of the students were no more excited about this than he was, but Harry ignored the angry mutters this announcement elicited. After all, that wasn't why Umbridge was here today.

"Though it is surprising that you are so concerned about the accusations against me, given your own heinous actions," the High Inquisitor continued. "Miss Parkinson, is this him?"

"Yes," Pansy said, her voice tremulous, though Harry could detect a not-so-hidden undercurrent of malevolent glee. "That's him. That's the one who tried to rape me."

* * *

Only the knowledge that this was all part of the plan kept Harry calm as he was escorted to Umbridge's office. After all, things had to happen a certain way, because, clearly, they already had. He hoped that made sense. After all, he was basing everything on a wild assumption, with only a piece of paper and a magical grenade as clues.

When they finally arrived, he was forced to sit on a wooden chair in the center of the room, with the Inquisitorial Squad all around him. The Auror Harry didn't know took a position at the door, while the one he did, the exceptionally corrupt Gibbon, stood near Umbridge.

"You tried to accuse me of crimes over the summer, and I managed to successfully defend myself then," Harry said, keeping his voice level with some effort. "What makes you think that this will be any different?"

"We have a witness this time," Umbridge said sweetly, gesturing to Pansy.

Harry scoffed. "Anyone with half a brain knows she's lying. And all I have to do is take veritaserum to prove it."

"Veritaserum isn't allowed in underage trials, for the suspect's own good," Umbridge replied, her voice turning sympathetic and almost pious at the end.

"You really shouldn't do this, Pansy," Harry warned. "You're lying, and I'll prove it. This isn't going to end well for you."

"You're right, I'm lying," Parkinson gloated. "But nobody will believe you over me. All I have to do is stand there and shed a few tears about how the horrible boy attacked me, and they won't hesitate to throw you to the dementors."

"That's if you even survive that long. Who knows what might happen in the meantime?" Gibbon mused thoughtfully. "After all, prisoners die trying to escape all the time."

"And even if somehow the charges Miss Parkinson will be laying against you are not sufficient, we have plenty of evidence of your other crimes," Umbridge said triumphantly. "We know you are one of the criminals known as Justice who tortured the students last year, and that you are in league with the murderers who attacked an upstanding business in Knockturn Alley."

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. _Does she have any real evidence, or is that just a guess?_ Unfortunately, there was no way to be sure.

Dumbledore's inaction earlier made it obvious that he would make no effort to help Harry. At least, not at this juncture. Perhaps he would swoop in at the last minute to save the day, but Harry had no desire to wait, helpless, in the hope that the headmaster would finally do the right thing.

No, he had the tools that he needed, supplied by himself. He just had to figure out how to make it all work.

His life depended on it.

* * *

A/N – Yes, I'm stopping there. Sorry for the cliffhanger, and for the shorter than normal chapter, but with what's coming next, I decided this is the best place to end it. Also, my apologies about missing last week. It took a while to get this chapter to work the way I wanted.


	27. Chapter 26: The Longest Day

Chapter 26: The Longest Day

Harry's mind raced as he frantically connected half-formed ideas into some semblance of a plan. Somehow, Umbridge had deduced that he had been part of Justice last year, and that he had been involved in the attack on the brothel. Or was she just guessing? _I can't take the chance, _the boy realized.

He had exactly one ace up his sleeve. He just had to make sure he played it at the right time, in the right way. And yet, despite the desperate situation he seemed to be in, he was confident that he would prevail. After all, he already had.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to put a quiver of fear into his voice.

"I want you to suffer for what you have done," Umbridge replied gleefully. "And that is what will happen. Nothing you can do will stop me."

_Don't seem too eager. Make them work for it._ Harry swallowed deeply. "I wasn't the mastermind behind Justice, or the attack on the brothel," he said fearfully. "But I can tell you who it was. I can show you how to find them. But you have to agree to let me go."

"That's not going to happen," the toad-like woman said, her wide mouth twisting into a malevolent smile. "You'll tell us everything we need to know eventually."

"But it won't be soon enough. They'll know you've captured me, and they'll escape," Harry countered. "If you let me go, you can capture the ones that were really responsible, and you won't have to worry about the public outrage for unjustly punishing the Boy-Who-Lived." He hated the hyphenated name he had been given, but it did have its uses at times.

"_Veritas_ is gone. Trustworthy Aurors are raiding their office right now, along with the office of your compatriots at 'Magical Solutions'," Gibbon responded, a smirk on his face.

While he hoped that she didn't know everything he had been up to, the mention of the company was proof that Umbridge at least knew more about Harry's actions than he would prefer.

"But there are others. People that only I know about. I have a way of communicating with them, that the people you're arresting don't have," Harry claimed. "In exchange for immunity, I will show you how it works. But if you wait until news of my arrest has spread, you'll never find them." _Take the bait, take the bait._ He didn't care about the immunity, of course; he wouldn't need it. But hopefully the demand would keep them from realizing the trap.

"Get some veritaserum," Umbridge ordered, looking at the Auror guarding the door.

_So, it's illegal for me to use veritaserum to prove my innocence, but they can force feed it to me to get information about my associates. Why am I not surprised?_ Harry tried to think of a way to avoid an interrogation under truth-serum, but to his surprise, it turned out not to be necessary.

The Auror cleared his throat somewhat nervously. "The Auror's office doesn't keep any veritaserum on hand," he admitted. "Department of Mysteries might have some, but…" his voice trailed off.

Harry wasn't sure about the internal politics between the different departments of the Ministry, but if, for some reason, one of the Toad's cronies thought that the Unspeakables wouldn't be willing to help them, that could only be good for him. _And it's probably because of people like Malfoy that the DMLE doesn't keep a supply of veritaserum. Ironic how their own attempts to keep the Ministry's law enforcement ineffective would backfire on them._

"The longer you delay, the more likely they are to escape," Harry pointed out, hoping that he sounded like a scared boy attempting to hide his fear.

"You will tell us where they are," the woman demanded angrily.

"Not without a magically backed agreement that I will not be punished for any crimes I may have committed," Harry insisted.

Rage filled the High Inquisitor's features. "I will not make any such deal with you!"

"Then the real criminals will go free," Harry answered. _Just a little more…_

To his surprise, the anger soon faded from her face, leaving Umbridge looked a little uncertain, though with an unsettling gleam in her eye. "It is essential that these criminals be arrested," she said, half to herself. She swallowed deeply. "As such, I am left with no alternative. Yes, given that this is a clear emergency, I'm sure that Cornelius will understand that certain… measures needed to be taken." She raised her wand, pointing it at Harry. As she did so, her eyes seemed to glow with malicious glee. Whatever reluctance or nervousness she had felt while talking herself into this had disappeared. Now, there was a nasty, excited look on her face. "I'm sure that the Cruciatus Curse will loosen your tongue."

_That wasn't part of the plan! _Harry searched desperately for some idea of how to escape, but there was no time.

Pain racked his body, and he could hear someone screaming. It was several seconds before Harry realized it was him.

He had no idea how long the spell lasted, but finally, the agony stopped. It took a minute for him to gather his wits. _Okay, I think that's enough resistance. They won't suspect anything now. I hope._

"I'll tell you," Harry cried out, his voice choking with sobs. "I'll tell you," he repeated desperately.

"Who are the other people in your conspiracy?" Umbridge demanded. "How do you contact them."

"I don't know all their names," Harry lied. "But you can find them using the communicator. It's in my bag." He paused to take a deep breath, his arms still trembling from the residual pain. "It's made of metal, about the size of your fist. It has a red button on it. Press the button, and a small light will began to flash. The flashes will slowly speed up as it connects to the other communicators, then their faces will appear, even if they're not connected yet." Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he made no effort to compose himself. Though it was humiliating to break down in front of the likes of Malfoy, Harry knew it would only help to convince his enemies that he was telling the truth. "It takes about five seconds."

"If this is some sort of communication device, it may be better to wait until we have a team ready to go after them," Gibbon advised.

"I told you everything I know," Harry pleaded, hoping to distract Umbridge from the corrupt Auror's unfortunately wise suggestion. "It's not my fault if they get away because you waited."

"Bring me his bag," Umbridge snapped. "I want this over with now. We're not giving criminals a chance to get away."

Percy Weasley quickly obeyed, handing Harry's binder over to the despicable woman, though judging by the horrified look on his face as he stared down at Harry, it seemed that the officious boy was beginning to regret his involvement here.

Umbridge struggled with the zipper for a moment, and Harry took the opportunity to glance at the desk where his wand was laying innocently, forgotten by everyone in the room except for him. Finally opening the cloth-covered binder, Umbridge looked at him, her beady eyes fixed on his. "Where is it?"

"In the front compartment, with my books," Harry replied, his voice little more than a whisper and his eyes on the ground once more.

Soon, Umbridge was holding the device. "How do I activate it?" she demanded eagerly.

"Press the red button, then keep holding it until it connects to the other communicators," the dark-haired teen said, still not looking at her. "There's a small light just above the button that will flash as it connects, and will take about five seconds. Just don't let go of it."

Everyone in the room watched closely as Umbridge pressed the button. Everyone except for Harry, of course. He just hoped that no one would realize he had maneuvered himself so that he was looking straight at the ground, with his eyes shut tightly. Despite the residual pain from the cruciatus, Harry's muscles tensed as he readied himself to spring into action. It would have been very convenient if there had been some way to tell when the flashbang would activate, but without looking, that was impossible.

It was just as this thought crossed his mind that a loud explosion filled the room. Harry sprang to his feet, mentally thanking his captors for their overconfidence in not tying him up. With speed born of desperation, he lunged at the desk, a familiar warmth spreading up his arm as he seized his wand.

There was no time to waste. His wand snapped over, and with a cry of 'Stupefy', Gibbon fell to the ground, unconscious. A second later, the other Auror had joined him in oblivion.

Harry's ears were still ringing from the cannon-like blast, but he could hear the screams of pain and fear from the people all around him. It was bad enough even without the blinding effect of the grenade, he could only imagine how bad it must have been for the people who had been staring right at the flashbang when it went off. Still, he didn't have any sympathy for them.

Stunners shot from his wand, and one by one, the members of the Inquisitorial Squad began to fall. But despite his best efforts, Harry wasn't fast enough. One of the larger Slytherin boys lunged at him, magic forgotten as he instead chose to punch the younger boy in the face.

Harry could feel his nose breaking as the meaty fist hit him. He fell to the ground heavily as the world spun around him. Fortunately, he had retained his grip on his wand, and he lashed out with the first spell that came to mind. "Depulso", he shouted, the pain from his nose redoubling as he spoke.

Still, the spell worked, sending the larger Slytherin flying backward head over heels, crashing into two other students before he finally impacted the far wall.

Other students were reacting now, some reaching for their wands, others trying to run for the door. Unfortunately for the latter group, the Auror who had been guarding the exit was in the way, and as Harry stunned a few more of the fleeing squad members, the pile of bodies ensured that there was no possibility of escape.

Finally, it was over, and Harry was the only person in the room still conscious. While he had, in one sense, been victorious, it certainly didn't feel like it. His arms and legs were still shaking from the cruciatus curse, his nose was bleeding heavily, and he had only the vaguest idea of what he should do now.

But at least he wasn't being held captive by Umbridge anymore. Which meant that things were looking up.

* * *

Harry raced through the halls, wishing he had had the foresight to keep his invisibility cloak on him at all times. Though he'd done his best to heal himself and clean his clothes, he knew that his efforts had been less than successful. If anyone saw him, there would be no doubt that he had fought his way free. And given that he was injured and tired, it wouldn't take much to subdue him.

Still, his luck held, and he made it back to Gryffindor Tower without being seen by anybody. At least, not by anybody human. Several of the paintings had let out loud exclamations of shock as he raced by, but Harry just couldn't care about that at the moment.

He took the stairs three at a time, racing up to his dormitory as fast as he could. To his surprise, his possessions were already neatly packed, the large trunk sitting innocently at the foot of his bed with his Firebolt right next to it. _Of course, I must have…_ He shook off that thought as he glanced over at his desk, where the sight of a familiar piece of parchment showed that not all of his belongings had been placed in the trunk.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry muttered, and soon the familiar map was visible. It didn't take long to locate Hermione. As expected, she was in Transfiguration. A glance at his watch showed that class wouldn't be getting out for about fifteen minutes, however, and it would be extremely counterproductive to barge in there in front of everyone.

Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve his emergency kit, where he kept his communicator. It might be too late, but he had to try to warn the others. "Connect to Peter," he said after placing the communicator in his ear.

To his surprise, Peter answered almost instantly. "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the teen replied, speaking quickly. "But you need to get out of there. Aurors are going to…"

Peter cut him off. "You warned us about it this morning, so we had plenty of time to evacuate everyone. For now, you need to focus on escaping. We'll talk more later."

In retrospect, it was obvious. _Of course, if I took the time to pack my trunk, then naturally I would have also warned my employees._ Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the headache that he knew would be coming from trying to predict the actions of his past/future self.

"Okay, I'll call you later," the Gryffindor said, ending the call with a sigh as he tried to think of his next moves.

_It would be best if people think I escaped directly from here._ He opened the window as wide as he could, which was easily enough for him to fly out on his broom.

He reached for the devil's trap necklace he had been given by Brian Williams, which held the monitoring charm Dumbledore had placed on him years ago. He'd worked hard to ensure that the data the charm produced was spoofed so that the headmaster would not be able to keep track of the movements Harry would rather keep a secret, but, at the same time, so that he would not realize Harry had disabled the charm. Now, there was no need for such deception. Drawing his arm back, he threw the charm out the window with all his might. If Brian was correct, at such a distance the charm would break, and Dumbledore would be alerted.

A part of Harry wondered idly how the high-handed old man would react. Would he panic that the boy he'd worked so hard to control was now loose in the world, with no chance of Dumbledore finding him? Harry hoped so, though he doubted it would happen. Still, he couldn't worry about that now. He wasn't out of the woods quite yet.

_Now I need to get the time-turner from Hermione._ He just hoped that she would let him use it willingly.

* * *

With no small amount of effort, Harry resisted the urge to fidget as he hovered impatiently outside the Transfiguration classroom. He had stunned everyone in Umbridge's office once more before he left, so hopefully it would be quite some time before the alarm was raised, but he didn't want to rely on luck any more than he had to. Of course, even if people were searching for him this very minute, it was unlikely that they would find him, given that he was sitting on his Firebolt ten feet off the ground with his invisibility cloak wrapped carefully around him. Finally, the door opened, and the students began to exit. Harry was pleased to note that instead of the excitement that had been prevalent that morning, now the students looked worried and upset – Hermione and Neville most of all.

Floating silently above them, he followed them down the hall until they were far enough away from the other students that Harry could whisper without being overheard. His skills on the broom made it easy to drift closely to his friends without being detected.

"Meet me in the classroom where we practice DADA," he said softly. Both of his friends stiffened in shock, but fortunately neither side anything, instead, turning down a side corridor toward the room.

* * *

Harry waited until Neville had shut the door before removing the cloak.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling him into a hug, which he gratefully returned.

"You know I didn't…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Oh, Harry, of course you didn't do anything to Parkinson. Everyone knows that," the bushy-haired girl said quickly.

"Yeah, everyone I've talked to knows you're innocent. They're just not sure what they should do. I know a few people were talking about writing to their parents, but mostly it's just been wait and see," Neville reported.

"Well, Umbridge made it clear that she doesn't care about guilt or innocence. She thinks I'm a threat to her and the Ministry, so she'll do whatever it takes to eliminate me. So, I'm leaving. I've got a plan to clear my name, but it will take a few weeks. For now, though, I need to get out of here." He took a deep breath, and turned his attention back to his female friend. "Hermione, can I borrow your time-turner?"

Her hand shot to her chest, a shocked expression on her face. "You… know?" she asked timidly.

Despite the stress he was feeling, not to mention the lingering pain from the Cruciatus Curse, Harry couldn't help but smile. "You were always in Divination with me at the same time you were in Arithmancy with Neville. We figured it out on the first day."

"Oh," Hermione said, looking a little disappointed that her efforts in keeping the secret had been so ineffective. After just a moment, her expression hardened. "You can use it, but I should come with you."

Harry shook his head emphatically. "Right now, there's nothing tying you to this. If you come back in time with me, there's a greater chance that people might figure out what happened." Seeing the mutinous expression on her face, he continued quickly. "You just need to keep your head down and you'll be safe. I'll leave as soon as I can once I've traveled back in time. That'll give me a few hours head start before anyone is looking."

"You can go back up to six hours," Hermione said softly, nodding. She pulled the strange, hourglass-shaped device out of her shirt and placed the chain around Harry's neck. "Just turn the center part over, one turn for each hour."

"Thank you," he said softly as he brought the time-turner up. "I'll leave it in the top drawer on the left hand side of that desk," he said, pointing to the unused article of furniture in the corner.

"Good luck, Harry," Neville said, taking a deep breath.

Harry just nodded, and began to turn the device.

The world seemed to dissolve around him, colors and shapes rushing past as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, until finally, everything came in to focus again. He found himself standing in a deserted corridor not far from the Transfiguration classroom.

As he reappeared, a wave of panic overtook him as he remembered the concern Chad had raised weeks ago that the magic of the invisibility cloak might have some sort of negative interaction with the time-turner. He hadn't thought of that. With a soft curse, he grabbed the cloak and threw it over his arm, letting out a relieved sigh when the limb vanished from sight. There didn't appear to be any problems. Just to be sure, he checked the Marauder's Map and his Firebolt as well, but both items also appeared to be functioning as normal.

He glanced at his watch, then had to laugh at himself as he realized his mistake. Instead, a quick _tempus_ charm showed that it was almost eight o'clock, proving that he had, indeed, come six hours back in time. Quickly donning his invisibility cloak, Harry walked quietly to the abandoned room he had just been in moments ago, or would be in six hours from now, depending on your perspective. After placing the time-turner in the drawer as promised, a deep sigh escaped him as the stress he was feeling seemed to slip away. For the first time since this whole mess had begun, he had time to think things through and figure out his next steps, rather than rushing frantically.

As thoughts began flowing through his mind, he began to compile a list. _Call Peter to warn him and have him begin investigating how Umbridge found out about us. Get a flashbang from Chad, then give it to myself. Pack all my stuff so that I'm ready to go._ He frowned thoughtfully. He'd attacked himself just after Divination, which meant that it had been at about ten o'clock. _That gives me almost two hours. Well, first step is to warn Peter and the others. The longer they have to evacuate, the better._

The communicator was still in his ear from the last time he had used it. "Connect to Peter," he said. This time, there was a definite delay before the older man finally answered the call.

"Hi Harry, what's up?" came the unconcerned greeting.

"This is going to sound crazy, but we have a very big problem. I just came back in time. Somehow, Umbridge knows about us. I don't know exactly what she knows, but you need to evacuate the Veritas and Magical Solutions offices. She might know about more than that, but that's all that she mentioned specifically."

There was a moment of silence. A very _loud_ moment of silence. Finally, Peter spoke. "Okay, we can do that. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Not quite at a hundred percent," Harry said. _That's an understatement, given that my hands are still shaking a little bit, though I have no idea whether that's because of the cruciatus or the adrenaline._ Still, there was nothing to gain by telling his friend that. "I'll be a little sore for the next few days, but nothing life threatening."

"Do you know how she knows about us?"

"No," Harry replied, frustrated. "She wasn't forthcoming with the details, and I was too busy trying to figure out a way out of there to worry about getting more information."

"It's most likely that either someone was followed, or we've trusted someone we shouldn't have," Peter said after a moment. "I'll talk with Mac. He's likely to have some ideas. In the meantime, what will you do?"

"I think I should stay away until we have some more answers," Harry said slowly. "We still don't know for certain how the trace works, so there is a chance that if I'm nearby while any of you are casting magic, the Ministry could detect it."

"That's a good point," Peter agreed. "The right wards can block that, but we don't have many places that are warded like that. We'll need to evacuate everything, then we can see where they do and don't attack."

"I'll head down to London," Harry decided. "On my Firebolt, it won't take long to fly the distance, and once I'm there, the Ministry won't have a chance of finding me. I've got plenty of muggle money, I'll just be another face in the crowd until we have a better idea of what's going on."

"Do you know when the Ministry will start the raids?"

"Probably sometime around lunch," Harry said uncertainly. "But the sooner you can get out of there, the better."

"Well, that goes without saying," Peter replied with some humor in his voice. "Is there anything else?"

"I'm going to call you around two o'clock, but it will be before I've gone back in time. Don't bother filling me in on what you've learned, just tell me to focus on escaping. I'll call you around three and we can make a plan then."

"Right," Peter replied, sounding a little distracted. Harry could hear noise in the background. _Did Peter already tell them to start evacuating?_

"Also, I need Chad to send me one of his flashbang grenades," Harry added.

"I'll have him do that right away," Peter promised.

"Then I think that's it. I'll call you this afternoon and we can talk more then."

"Good luck, Harry."

"You too," the teen replied before ending the call.

* * *

In many ways, it was the waiting that was the worst, Harry realized as he forced himself to stop pacing and sit down. He'd already completed his preparations, but he couldn't leave Hogwarts until after he had given his past self the flashbang, and he had to ensure that he wasn't seen or that could put Hermione in trouble for helping someone wanted by the Ministry. And given that she was a muggleborn, he was under no delusions that Umbridge would give her any benefit of the doubt. No, if there was even a hint that she had aided him in any way, she would end up in a Ministry holding cell without delay, and possibly Azkaban after that.

Fudge and his people had proven that they were willing to move openly against an international celebrity who was considered a hero by a large percentage of magical Britain's population. Compared to that, the unjust imprisonment of a muggleborn, whom many of even the law-abiding members of society still saw as second-class citizens, would hardly rate a mention. Harry scowled at this thought. It wasn't fair, but that didn't change the fact that that's how it was. _But that's not how it's always going to be._ He may be facing some setbacks now, but he would find a way to overcome them, and he would expose the crime and corruption that pervaded the Ministry.

Finally, the time arrived, and Harry stood once again, stretching as he walked over to the door, pausing first to don his cloak and double-check that he was fully covered. Finally satisfied, he exited the room and walked quietly down the hall to where he knew his past self would be passing in about five minutes.

It was strange looking at things from this perspective. He knew what he should include in the note because he remembered what he had read the first time through. What would happen if he tried to write something different, something that explained the situation he would be facing in greater detail? Would that cause a paradox? Was there some original version of Harry in a far distant timeline that had decided to be cryptic rather than giving himself a real warning? With a frustrated sigh, he pushed these thoughts away. He just didn't have the time to dwell on such irrelevant questions.

He raised his hand, his wand just barely poking out of the cloth hiding him from view as his past self appeared, walking unconcernedly down the hall, just as Harry had done six hours ago. A stinging hex shot out of his wand, and he watched with some pride at how quickly he reacted and dodged the incoming spell. He wasn't surprised, of course; he knew he would do so. Shaking his head at this confusing train of thought, he quickly retreated back down the corridor. Though his instincts were screaming at him to watch, just to make sure that his past self took the grenade like he was supposed to, he knew it was unnecessary. He knew it would work out okay because it had already happened for him.

Now, Harry needed to look to his future, and he had no more hints from a future self to guide him. He was on his own.

* * *

The flight down to London passed without incident, and soon Harry found himself eating a very greasy burger at McDonalds, watching people passing this way and that on the busy streets of England's largest city. It was strange to think after so much that had happened just hours ago, he was sitting here bored out of his mind and looking for some way to pass the time. Fortunately, he wasn't the only teenager out and about, as it seemed that some schools had already let out for the holidays (or a decent number of his fellow teens had simply chosen to skip school that day). He wandered up and down the roads, taking the time to investigate anything that caught his fancy.

He'd been meandering aimlessly for about an hour when he finally stumbled upon a way to fill up a few hours. Purchasing a ticket and some popcorn, he entered the theater and found a seat, and was soon enthralled watching as a group of unfortunate humans tried desperately to escape the dinosaurs at a failed zoo.

It was an amazing movie, with incredible effects, many of which he wondered how they could have been done without magic. But as he left the large, multi-screen theater he noticed something that instantly drove out all thoughts of the movie he had just seen.

There were several men standing around, casting suspicious glances at the large crowd exiting the building. Thankfully, he had used one of his disguising potions when he first arrived in London, so it was unlikely that he had been recognized from such a distance. But if they got a good look and him, his new hair and eye color would not be enough to ensure he remained anonymous. Especially since he had demonstrated the effects of the potion during the trial all those months ago. Crossing his fingers and hoping that he hadn't been spotted yet, Harry turned and tried to nonchalantly slip back inside the building, making his way directly to the bathroom. To his relief, it was empty, giving him enough time to quickly extract his invisibility cloak, then wait patiently at the door until someone else entered, allowing him to sneak out before the door swung shut.

Exiting the building was a bit more difficult, given the larger numbers of people coming and going that he had to avoid, but he managed, and finally he was standing at a spot well out of the path of the moviegoers that still provided a good view of some of the mysterious watchers.

Though there was nothing immediately obvious about their clothes, for some reason, Harry could just tell that they didn't fit in. It wasn't until he examined them more closely that he finally noticed some inconsistencies. One man was wearing sneakers with his dress slacks, while another was wearing both a belt and suspenders. Others had similar oddities. Harry would never consider himself to be as knowledgeable about fashion as, say, Lavender or Parvati, but even he knew that these men's clothing didn't match. They weren't muggles.

With the invisibility cloak, it wasn't difficult to sneak away, but that still left one question. _How did they find me?_

* * *

As soon as he found a deserted alleyway, Harry retrieved his broom and flew to the top of a nearby building, then pulled out his communicator.

Peter answered after the second ring. "Harry, good news, there hasn't been any sign of Auror activity around the land we purchased for our new village, so we should be safe to…"

Harry cut his friend off before he could finish that thought. "I've got some wizards following me. I don't know how they found me, but they did."

There was silence for a moment, then Henry MacArthur's voice growled into the communicator. "Potter, are they following you right now?"

"No, I don't think so," the teen replied. "They were waiting for me when I left the theater, but I don't think they detected me when I slipped out using my cloak."

"Keep moving," Mac instructed him. "But not too fast. And stay under your cloak until we have a better idea of how they found you."

A crack sounded off to Harry's right, and he turned, grateful that he was still wearing his cloak. "Someone just apparated onto the roof," he informed the old Hitwizard in a whisper.

"Can you see them?"

Harry paused, straining his eyes in the direction the noise had come from. "Not sure. I think I might see something, possibly a disillusioned person, but I can't say for certain.

"Get out of there," Mac said quickly. "Just make sure you don't draw any attention to yourself as you leave."

Harry hastened to comply. He couldn't risk getting on the broom yet, that was too difficult to conceal under the cloak. So instead, he stealthily crept away from where he suspected the disillusioned Auror was.

A second crack sounded from just a few yards in front of him.

Harry held his breath, trying not to make a sound, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed as he made a detour around the presumed Auror. Within a minute, he was crouched behind a large mechanical unit. Keeping an eye on the guards, he silently recovered his broom from the pouch and climbed on.

He flew slowly to ensure that the invisibility cloak stayed in place, and that the moving air from his motion didn't reveal his presence. Finally, he was far enough away to ensure that he wouldn't be heard. "Mac, are you still there?"

"I'm here. You get clear?"

Harry found himself nodding, even though Mac obviously couldn't see him. "It was close, but I'm away from them."

"Keep moving, but stay on your broom. Call me as soon as someone else appears," Mac directed. And then there was silence.

"Goodbye to you, too," Harry muttered as he continued to fly slowly east.

* * *

The next time, the telltale _pop_ of a wizard apparating in was so soft that Harry almost missed it. It didn't help that the man had appeared down at ground level while Harry was flying thirty feet in the air. But he did hear the sound, and, after a few seconds of carefully watching, he spotted the disillusioned man.

Moving away from the prowler and picking up speed, he called Peter's communicator once again. "Another one found me," he stated softly when Mac answered.

"Almost exactly twenty minutes," the old Hitwizard stated. "Somehow, they have a way of determining exactly where you are every so often."

"How?" Harry asked. "And why send just a few men each time? Wouldn't it be easier for them to send a large group to trap me?"

"It might be that they're hoping to wear you out, make you more vulnerable," Mac theorized. "And as for how, there's several ways. The most common would be blood-based scrying. Any chance they have some of your blood?"

Harry groaned out loud. "Stupid! While I was escaping from Umbridge's office, one of the Inquisitorial Squad goons managed to punch me in the face, breaking my nose. I did my best to fix it using basic healing spells, but I didn't think to get rid of the blood before I left." He was mentally kicking himself for the oversight. Even though he had never heard of scrying, he should have known better than to leave blood behind.

It was clear that Mac agreed it had been an idiotic oversight, but at least the old man realized there was no point in castigating the teen for his lack of caution. "Each time they scry, they use a little more of the blood. Eventually, they'll run out. But I have no idea when."

"So, I just have to keep avoiding them until they stop coming after me?" Harry asked, closing his eyes in despair. It had been a long day already, and he was getting tired.

"Wait one moment," the former Auror gruffly said.

Harry could hear some indistinct conversation in the background, but nothing loud enough for him to make out.

"Connor agrees that none of our wards are likely to do anything to block a blood-based tracking system. We'll try to figure something out, but for now, just keep dodging them."

Harry sighed wearily. "Will do," he said, then ended the call.

* * *

Hours passed, and rain had begun to fall. With the sun long since having vanished beneath the horizon, Harry rubbed his arms to get warm, a surprising chill having begun to spread an hour or so ago, an unfortunate turn given his lack of proper cold-weather clothing. His pursuers had begun turning up in even greater numbers, and now, every fifteen to twenty minutes, he had to flee the sudden appearance of nearly two dozen unidentified magicals.

He had never been so grateful for his father's old cloak. Despite the many spells they cast to try to find him, they never succeeded. He wished that he had to opportunity to take the fight to them, but given that he still had the Trace on him, it seemed like a particularly foolish plan. He would if he were desperate, however.

The good news was that his team had found a solution to the problem of the blood-based tracking. Connor had reached out to some of his international contacts and, with some additional assistance from Brian Williams, had found a method to 'scramble' the signal, so that a person inside the wards would not be detected. Unfortunately, it would still be some time before the new protections were ready, which meant that Harry had to continue to evade his pursuers until that time.

He had spoken with Peter and Mac about having the DragonFire soldiers come to assist him, but that would be a last-ditch effort in case all else failed. His best hope lay in the incredible stealth his magnificent cloak gave him, rather than direct combat. Still, it was encouraging to know that a team was standing by, reading to apparate in if he needed.

Shivering once more, Harry decided to abandon his broom and return to ground level, staying near the parts of the city where people still walked here and there, despite the cold and the light rain. Hopefully, his pursuers would be hesitant to come in too close for fear of being discovered by the muggles.

He looked around him, then down at his watch, frowning. _It should be getting to that time,_ he thought. Several minutes passed, and still there was no sign of his pursuers.

_Could they have finally run out of blood?_ He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but the possibility was too tantalizing to ignore completely. But, no, he knew that it was not possible. The Ministry would never give up. They would keep hunting him until he was too tired to run, and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it.

He shivered again as another wave of cold rolled over him, this one more intense than any before. He was going to die, he knew that now. The Aurors would capture him and kill him, and everything he worked for would be in vain. Somewhere in the distance, a woman screamed, though Harry couldn't tell what direction the sound had come from.

By now his teeth were chattering, and as he looked around, he could see that he wasn't the only suffering under this unexpected wave of cold. The muggles around him were similarly affected, some of them even having fallen to the ground, crying out, not because of the cold, Harry realized, but out of fear.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Something was very wrong here. _Intense cold. Feelings of despair… and hopelessness…_ Dread filled his thoughts as he realized what that meant.

A dark shape materialized out of the night sky, drifting toward him as it hovered just a few feet off the ground.

_A dementor._ Before Harry had time to fully process this thought, another appeared, and then another.

Soon, dozens of the foul beasts were swarming toward him, evidently unhindered by the invisibility cloak he wore.

The time for secrecy was over. Unfortunately, the only spell to repell dementors was one that he had never successfully cast, despite having spent literally hundreds of hours working on it. He pulled out his wand, trying to steady his hand as he pointed it at the advancing monstrosities. "Expecto Patronum," he cried, trying to focus on happy thoughts.

A soft white mist filled the darkness momentarily, but it soon faded away.

More dementors had joined the throng, and Harry saw to his horror that some of them had begun to drift toward the helpless muggles as well. "Expecto Patronum," he tried again, but the result was no better than the first time.

Hoping to lure the demonic soul-suckers away from the muggles, he ran down an alley, pressing his back up against the wall when he finally came to a dead end.

_Dead end. How fitting._ He was going to die here. There was nothing for it. He considered calling for help from Mac or the DragonFire team, but he knew deep down that it was futile. They wouldn't arrive in time.

He could hear a high-pitched laugh from somewhere as the dementors approached. "Expecto Patronum," he called once more, still to no lasting effect.

He grabbed his broom, hoping to fly out of the alley, but as he looked up, he could see another half-dozen dementors hovering in the air above him. He was trapped.

Despair filled his heart. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear a woman pleading. At first, he didn't understand what she was saying, but as the dementors came closer, her words became clearer.

"_Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything –_"

Understanding finally filled him. Dementors forced a person to remember their worst memories. He was amazed to realize that he was hearing his mother's last words.

"_Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!_"

_Voldemort._ Harry shivered. _It looks like he'll finally get his wish today. The Boy-Who-Lived-no-more._ Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He'd get to see his parents again. It was clear that they had loved him. His mother had died to save him.

The dementors were just a few yards away as this thought passed through his mind. But despite the despair that he was feeling, the memory of his mother fighting to save him awoke something in the dark-haired teen.

_She died. She died to save me. She didn't care what happened to her, so long as I lived. _It was like a fire, slowly growing, despite the waves of cold hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm him. _I'm not going to let her sacrifice be for nothing. I'm not going to just give up. I'm not going to die here!_

The fire grew a little hotter, and Harry found himself actually snarling at the approaching demons. _I will not give up. I will not just die here._ He chanted it mentally over and over like a mantra._ I am going to fight on, and nothing is going to stop me. Not dementors, not the Ministry, not Dumbledore, not Voldemort. NO ONE will stop me. I WILL stand triumphant in the end._

The fire was now a raging bonfire, a well of hope and determination that not even the horde of dementors could suppress. And suddenly, he knew that he could cast the spell, as though the missing piece of the puzzle had finally been found.

"Expecto Patronum," he yelled once more, putting every ounce of hope and defiance into it. A mass of silver shot out of his wand, and as he fell to the ground, Harry could see it coalesce, steadily taking form.

Soon, a silvery, four-legged animal stood between him and the dementors, which had all paused as though to reassess their prey. From his perspective, Harry couldn't get a good look at the shape of his new spirit guardian, though the legs and body were muscular, and he could just make out what seemed to be a curved horn coming out of each side of its head.

The ethereal beast stamped angrily at the ground, then lowered its head and charged.

The dementors scattered, and soon Harry was alone, panting heavily in the alley.

_I did it. I finally did it._ To his embarrassment, he actually started giggling.

But his mirth soon faded as a series of loud cracks sounded at the mouth of the alley, and Harry found half a dozen red-robed Aurors gazing at him with cruel smiles on their faces, wands already pointed at him.

"So, Potter still has his soul. That's a surprise," Gibbon said, his voice dripping with malice. "But I guess that means we get to do things the old-fashioned way."

Before any of the men in front of him could cast a spell, a bolt of purple light flew down from the sky hitting the ground right in the middle of the Aurors.

Harry stared in amazement as a massive explosion erupted from the ground, sending his attackers flying. A tall man with long, brown hair leaped down from a nearby building, somehow landing without injury. Wand held aloft, he charged the corrupt Aurors, spells flying at an astounding rate.

Soon, Harry and his rescuer were the only two in the alley still conscious. In fact, Harry realized, given the kind of spells his unexpected defender had been using, it was entirely possible that they were the only two still alive.

Harry forced himself to his feet, trying to hold the wand steady in front of him. "Thanks for the rescue, but why did you help me?"

"I was following the dementors, hoping to find you," the man said. Then, to Harry's surprise, his face blurred, taking on a more familiar visage.

"Tonks," he exclaimed, relieved, as he fell to his knees in exhaustion.

She rushed forward to catch him. "I got you, Harry. Let's get you somewhere safe."

* * *

A/N – Thanks for reading! I hope this chapter made up for the cliffhanger in the last one. And thank you for not hunting me down in real life and lynching me. I know some of you were thinking about it. :)

As for the patronus, I know that many fics like to use the idea that love is the true emotion that powers a patronus, not mere happiness. And while this is a nice sounding idea, I don't think that it fits with what we see in canon. The first time Harry successfully casts a patronus is during the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw match, when he is racing neck to neck with Cho, fully focused on catching the snitch. Despite his slight crush on Cho, there's nothing to make me think that Harry would be thinking about love in that situation. No, I think that, as I showed here, it is the determination to continue on despite adversity, the 'guts' to keep going no matter what that really counts. This contrasts nicely with the oppressive aura of despair the dementors exude, magically compelling people to give up. Happiness is a good motive for people to keep going, but when it comes to the patronus, it's the actual fortitude, the grit, if you will, to persevere come what may that is the essential emotion.

And bonus points to anybody who can guess what animal Harry's patronus is.


	28. Chapter 27: Rest and Recovery

Chapter 27: Rest and Recovery

Harry woke to find himself lying in an unfamiliar bed. Startled, he shot up quickly, though his concern lessened greatly when he spotted his wand lying on the nightstand to his right. Now armed, and with no sign of any imminent threat, he took a moment to observe his surroundings.

The room was more or less empty. The bed and nightstand were the only furniture, and he could see from where he stood that the closets were completely bare. No decorations were hung on the walls. Harry looked down and was unsurprised to see that he was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday. Or, at least, he assumed that it had been yesterday.

He exited the room and found himself in a long hallway with doors lining each side, equally spaced, as far as he could tell. At the far end of the hall to his right, Harry could see a door that looked like it led outside. And to his left, the hall ended in an open doorway, through which he could hear indistinct voices.

_Guess that settles which way to go,_ he thought as he began to walk toward the noise. As he passed through the opening, he was surprised by the small group of people he could see gathered in what looked like some sort of sitting room. Whatever Malcolm, Michelle and Peter's wife, Heather, were discussing, it obviously had their full attention, as none of them noticed when he entered the room.

"The sleeper emerges!" a familiar voice joked from behind him, causing the quiet conversation in front of him to stop as everyone turned to look at where Harry was standing. Harry turned to see Chad standing just a few feet back, holding a glass of what looked like lemonade.

"Hey, Chad. How long was I asleep?" Harry inquired.

The American glanced at his watch. "Well, it's 2:30 now. Not sure what time you got here; I was already asleep."

Harry frowned. "And where is here? I don't recognize this place."

It was Malcolm Prewett who answered that question. "Temporary housing we had built a few weeks ago at our new, elite magical village. Which we still need a name for," he added. "We had to rush out and buy some furniture, but it at least gives us all a place to stay until we figure out our next step."

Harry frowned. "You're all staying here? What about your homes?"

"Until we know who is being targeted by the Ministry, it's safest for us all to stay here," Michelle explained.

"The Ministry came after some of you?" To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement. "How would they even know who you are? We've been careful not to have any real link between us."

Chad shook his head. "We don't know for sure, but Mac thinks that it has something to do with the first attack on your life over the summer. Umbridge's pet assassin was obviously watching you closely in order to slip that sabotaged potion in your room without anyone realizing. Wouldn't surprise me if he got a good look at our little organization."

"So, have they actually gone after anyone else, or are you just being cautious?" Harry asked, a little afraid of the answer.

All eyes turned to look at Heather, who sighed. "You're going to hear it sooner or later. The Ministry burned our house down," she said heavily. "Luckily, Peter had me take the boys to my brother's house when you first sent out the warning that they might be after us, so we're all fine, but the house and everything in it are gone."

This hit Harry like a punch to the gut, and he fell back heavily onto one of the couches. "Heather, I'm… I'm sorry. I thought we were being careful enough, I never meant…"

"It's not your fault, Harry," Heather interjected, shaking her head. "It's all the Ministry and Umbridge. You're doing the right thing trying to fix it all, and I'm glad that Peter and I could be a part of it. I wish it hadn't happened, but homes can be rebuilt. If that's the price to fix the corruption in our government, it's worth paying." Her face twisted into a wry smile. "Though it's lucky we didn't have this discussion yesterday. I wasn't in quite as good of a mood then."

"Are your boys here?" Harry asked.

Heather nodded. "They're playing outside, now. It's kind of an adventure for them. Living in London, they don't get much chance to see the countryside, so we're making the most of it."

"Still, I'm so sorry," Harry tried to apologize, but Heather wasn't having any of it.

"As I said before, it's not your fault. We all underestimated the lengths people like Umbridge and Fudge would go to in order to keep their power."

"Has anyone else been hurt or…" Harry tried to think of the right word. "Impacted," he finally settled on, "by Umbridge's attack on me?"

At this, all four adults exchanged glances. Harry's blood ran cold at the somber looks on their faces. "Six non-magicals were Kissed by dementors last night," Chad replied with obvious reluctance. "He would have found out eventually!" The American protested as the others glared at him.

"You still could have found some way to soften the blow," Michelle muttered.

Harry ignored their squabbling, too focused on his own guilt to care what they were saying. _It's all my fault. I knew the Ministry wouldn't just let our attacks go._

His thoughts must have been very obvious. "You can't blame yourself, Harry," Malcolm said gently.

"Of course I can. People are dead because of me. Or, as good as dead," the teen retorted.

"No, they're dead because the Ministry is corrupt," Michelle responded immediately. "And, while I realize this is cold comfort, six lives lost is a very small price to pay compared to the devastation that Britain will face if You-Know-Who returns and the Ministry is not prepared to face him."

"Tell that to their families," Harry said softly as he stood and left the room.

* * *

One of the best advantages of Timeland, Harry had realized long ago, was that it was like a home away from home he could carry in his pocket. And at times like this when he wanted to be alone, it was perfect.

He kept plenty of food for several days stockpiled in stasis, so there was no need for him to return to the real world anytime soon. Instead, he passed the time exercising, studying, or working on projects like his combat suit that had been pushed to the side with all the craziness of the past few months. Anything to keep his mind off what had happened, and the price that he had inadvertently forced others to pay.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself, he couldn't stop the doubts and regrets that crept in. He had thought he had such a clever plan, and just like last year with his godfather, others had died because of his actions.

This thought just spurred him on even more.

Still, he couldn't stay in Timeland forever. And so, it was with no small degree of reluctance that Harry finally emerged back in the small, sparsely furnished room he had retreated to just a few hours ago. With a sigh, he flung himself down on the bed, staring up, unseeing, at the ceiling above him. With nothing to do, nothing to keep his mind occupied, all the guilt and doubt returned once more in force.

A knock sounded at the door, startling Harry out of his self-recriminations. "Come in," he called, leaning up to see who it was.

A mischievous face framed with bright pink hair appeared through the opening. "Oh, good, you're not naked. That would be awkward," Tonks joked.

"I said you could come in. I wouldn't have done that if I weren't dressed," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

His visitor just shrugged. "Well, you never know, some guys like that sort of thing," she said, waggling her eyebrows as she entered.

Harry found himself blushing but couldn't come up with a good response. "Thanks for the help last night," he finally said, trying to find a safer topic.

"No problem. Couldn't leave my new boss to get his soul sucked out or killed by Gibbon and his lot," Tonks replied cheerfully.

Harry let out a sound of amusement halfway between a laugh and a scoff. "How did we even get here anyway? I don't really remember much."

"Mac and I decided it wouldn't be wise to bring you here the normal way in case they scryed for your location while we were nearby, so I had a miniaturized trunk with a vanishing cabinet inside, kind of like we used during the raid on the Dahlia."

Harry nodded. That made sense.

Silence reigned for a few minutes.

"So," Tonks said, her tone brightening as she changed the subject. "That was quite the patronus. I'm impressed, not even all the Aurors can cast one."

"It took me long enough," Harry countered, somewhat bitterly. "I've been trying for months now. Finally got it last night."

"Can you cast it now?"

Harry frowned. _That's a good question._ Grabbing his wand, the teen concentrated, trying to remember the feeling of determination that had filled him the night before. It seemed to come easier this time. Finally, he cast the spell.

A large blob of white mist shot out of his wand, quickly taking the form of a large, quadrupedal animal with horns. It looked strong and powerful, but, to Harry's disappointment, it just didn't seem quite right.

"What's wrong?" Tonks asked as she sat down next to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I guess… everything I've read says that the form a patronus takes is something significant or special to the caster. That it matches their personality somehow, but I don't even know what _that_ is," he said, gesturing to the animal in front of him.

Tonks looked thoughtfully at the misty creature. "I think it's a buffalo," the Auror in training said slowly. "But I would have to double check on that."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "You don't seem like the type of person to spend time studying animals," he commented dubiously.

Rather than taking offense, Tonks just laughed. "I'm certainly not a zoologist, but you can learn a lot from animals. It helps to give me ideas for ways I can use my metamorph abilities." Her smile turned slightly smug. "I can give myself eagle eyes that enable me to read a newspaper from a block away, or change the shape of my pupils and add a reflective lining to the back of my eyes that lets me see better at night. Better hearing, better sense of smell, faster reflexes… I just have to learn how animals do it, then figure out a way to replicate that."

"Anyways," the pink-haired woman continued, "Dan's on his way back with news from a meeting at the Foundation. He stopped to get some pizza, so he'll be here in ten or fifteen minutes. Peter suggested that we have a meeting after we eat, to figure out where we go from here."

Harry nodded somberly as Tonks stood and exited the room. That was certainly something that would require some discussion. He began mentally composing the apologies that he would offer everyone, but eventually gave up the attempt. _They're being hunted by the Ministry. Peter and Heather's house has been destroyed, and we have no idea who's next._

How do you apologize for something like that?

* * *

To Harry's surprise, everyone seemed to be in good spirits as they all gathered in the large dining area, helping themselves to slices of the half a dozen large pizzas with various toppings Dan had brought.

Soon, Heather was leading the Wilson boys off to bed, enticing them with the promise of reading an extra chapter of their story that night to head off any complaints at having to turn in early, leaving just the adults and Harry.

"Before we start talking about the latest news," Harry began, his voice heavy with contrition, "I just want to say to you all that I'm sorry. I should have…" his voice trailed off has he tried to think of what to say.

"Harry, do you think we're stupid?" Connor asked with startling brusqueness.

"What? No!" Harry replied immediately.

"Then why are you apologizing? We all knew that something like this was a possibility. We did our best to minimize the risks, but, as you said, we're not stupid. We all knew there was a chance something could go wrong. So, stop blaming yourself. You gave us sufficient warning to get everyone out safely. Now, we just need to figure out what we do from here."

To Harry's surprise, everyone else in the room seemed to agree with the Scottish man's statement.

Harry didn't want to let it go that easily, but Peter cut him off before he could say anything else. "It's not your fault, Harry. Now we need to figure out how we should respond. Dan, can you tell us about your meeting?"

Dan Falkenson nodded. "For those of you that didn't hear, I was contacted by Lucius Malfoy early this morning who arranged for a meeting with Fudge, Umbridge, and a few of their fellow conspirators. They want my assistance in dealing with the current unrest in magical Britain. Not surprisingly, there are a great many people who don't trust what the Ministry is saying. This is primarily in regard to how quickly Umbridge was found innocent of any wrongdoing, and the hunt for Harry. Not anywhere near a majority, granted, but still, a significant number of people have realized that the accusations against Harry are false, and are correctly surmising that the Ministry is just trying to silence one of their most famous and vocal critics. The fact that most of the students at Hogwarts seem to support Harry and utterly despise Umbridge has certainly helped to further that opinion. There were riots in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, with some people even firing spells at the Aurors who were called in."

"Do we know what the Ministry's response is going to be?" Michelle asked.

"From what I could tell, it sounds like they're just going to keep trying more of the same," Dan replied with obvious disapproval. "They have the Daily Prophet firmly under their thumb, so they think if they keep repeating the same story over and over, people will eventually believe it."

"That's all they're doing? Just a propaganda war?" Peter asked disbelievingly.

"For now, yes. I was able to convince Fudge not to go overboard," Dan said, frowning. "But I don't know how much longer I'll be able to prevent him from doing something very… stupid. The Ministry has already begun arresting protestors. Umbridge was pushing for anyone who spoke out against the current administration to be arrested for sedition. Fudge, at least, wasn't willing to go quite that far, but it's obvious that he's desperate. He knows that his ship is sinking fast, and he'll do anything to save himself."

"Like sending dementors into a muggle city to chase a teenager," Tonks muttered.

"Why isn't the Wizengamot doing anything?" Michelle wondered.

"They don't want to upset the applecart," Malcolm replied scathingly. "Most people don't realize just how precarious magical Britain's financial system is. People like Lucius Malfoy have enough money to completely throw the economy into chaos, but at the same time, if the majority of the population rises against the Ministry, things could get ugly very quickly. They're probably hoping the problem goes away without them having to intervene on one side or the other."

"And even if they did choose to intervene, they would spend months debating which particular course of action would be best," Peter pointed out. "Without a clear demonstration of which side has the power, they're just going to sit there spinning their wheels. It's safer for them that way."

"Does this impact our plans for the citizen's award?" Harry asked.

"No," Dan replied, shaking his head. "Or, at least, not in a bad way. Malfoy was suggesting that the award could be used to dispel many of the accusations against the Ministry. I've let it slip that he's practically guaranteed to be given the award, so he very casually brought it up as a possible way to distract people from the current problems if it was announced sometime soon."

"What about the prison?" Harry continued. "Will this cause any delay in getting the Death Eaters into our custody?"

"Again, no. We should be ready for the transfers by the end of next week."

"How many are we getting?" Chad asked.

"Eight," Peter responded. "All three Lestranges, Rookwood, Dolohov, Travers, Mulciber and Selwyn."

The discussion continued around him, but Harry wasn't paying much attention. Instead, all his thoughts were on the scheme he had come up with to use the Foundation for the Future to expose Malfoy's crimes. _The longer we delay, the more likely something will go wrong,_ he realized. The public thought that the Foundation supported the Ministry. All it would take is one riot going out of control and everything they had worked for and planned on would be thrown into jeopardy.

_The only reason we were delaying was to get the Death Eaters in our new prison. Once we have them, that's no longer a concern, even if we haven't had time to interrogate them yet._ As he considered this, Harry turned his attention back to the debate taking place around him.

"Their control of the Daily Prophet is going to be difficult to overcome. _Veritas_ is getting more and more common, but a lot of people will trust what they read in the Prophet over what we say in our paper," Peter cautioned.

"It's like that Mark Twain quote," Chad added. "Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel."

"That's not entirely true," Dan countered, his mouth twisted into a speculative grin. "There is someone who can fight your hypothetical ink-barrel purchaser."

It was at this point that Harry cut in. "Our only reason for delaying the trap with the Foundation was so that we could interrogate the Death Eaters. Can we have them in our prison next week?" he asked, looking at Peter, who nodded. "Then there's no reason to delay," the teen continued, his voice firm. "Tell Lucius Malfoy that we'll give him his award, say, next Monday. But we won't stop at just Malfoy's crimes. We can reveal Umbridge's actions as well, along with many of the other Inner Circle Death Eaters that weren't imprisoned after the war. We make sure that everyone knows the truth about these people. Once the truth is out there, the Wizengamot will be forced to act."

"What about the Prophet?" Malcom asked.

"Dan, you were about to say something before I cut you off," Harry prompted.

"Go for the supply lines," the dark-haired man said simply. "The best person to pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel is the person who sells that ink. With such short notice, it might be difficult, but if we can buy the companies that supply the paper and ink for the Prophet, then threaten to cut them off completely if they don't play ball, they'll be forced to follow our orders until they can find a new supplier. It's a trick that will only work once, but it should keep them in line for at least a few weeks."

"Surely the Prophet would have stockpiles of necessary supplies," Michelle said, frowning.

"I'm sure they do, but I would be surprised if it was enough to keep them running for weeks on end," Dan replied. "And if we could find out where they keep those stockpiles and destroy or steal them, that would eliminate even that concern."

"Kind of a waste to buy two companies just to run them into the ground," Malcolm pointed out. "Wouldn't blackmail on the Chief Editor be easier?"

"We can find other ways to use those companies later," Peter pointed out. "For now, I think it's a good idea. Blackmailing the editor could come back to hurt us later. But buying out a company to put pressure on a rival is just business. Sure, some people may object afterward, but there's no actual law against it, unlike blackmail. It's just a question of whether or not the owners are willing to sell."

"I can look into that," Malcolm agreed.

"Before we move forward with this, I want to hear what everyone thinks," Harry stated. "I'm the one paying for this all, which pretty much makes me the boss, but if the past few days have proven anything, it's that I can make some big mistakes. So, if anyone has any concerns about this course of action, I want to know about it."

Harry thought he saw Peter frowning at him out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked over, there was no sign of disapproval on his second-in-command's face. "I think it's a good idea," the man said. "We've got an ace up our sleeve, and now is the perfect time to play it."

Chad spoke up next. "A lot of people are pissed at the Ministry right now. It'll only take a small push and Fudge will be gone. I say let's do it."

The others in the room nodded, but it was Michelle who voiced their opinions. "There's nothing to be gained by waiting. It's a good plan."

Though Harry was grateful that everyone supported his decision, he couldn't completely suppress the sudden spike of fear that somehow this, too, would backfire. Ignoring that, he pressed on. "Then that's what we'll do. If we intend to have the award ceremony next Monday, that gives us eight days to prepare. We need a plan."

The discussion continued long into the night. When the meeting finally ended hours later, there was a grim look of satisfaction on everyone's face. There was still a great deal of work to be done, but they were confident that it would work.

* * *

Despite the long list of tasks needing to be done in preparation for the big event, Harry found that there was very little that he could actually do to help. While it was unlikely that the Ministry was still trying to scry for his locations, the Trace was presumably still active, which meant that not only could he not do any magic outside of the protections Connor had established, he couldn't be around anyone using magic, either, which meant that while the others were rushing to complete their assigned tasks, he was stuck in the small building they were using as their temporary headquarters.

Of course, he did his best to make himself useful, going over the program with Dan and Peter and helping to compile the questions that Malfoy would be forced to answer. At the end of the day, however, he was left with a feeling of inadequacy. He wanted to be doing more, but there just wasn't a way.

It was a very frustrated teen who returned to his room that evening. _I might as well unpack my trunk. That way I can at least say I did something productive today_, he thought bitterly. With a sigh, he set to work hanging his clothes in the closet. Due to the almost complete lack of furniture in the room, there wasn't much else to do, but he did grab a few books to put on the nightstand, realizing as he did that he hadn't spent much time reading for pleasure in the past few months. _I should do that more_, he decided, glancing over once more at the small pile of books.

To his amusement, the top book was the one that Luna had given him for Christmas – The Merlinian Discourses. He picked it up, studying the worn cover closely. Inside, he found the note Luna had included, which he had placed in the front cover. He still wasn't sure what his rather eccentric friend had meant when she wrote that the book would 'help him fulfill his destiny', but it made him smile anyway.

The sound of someone knocking on the door drew his attention, and he placed the book back on the pile with the others. "Come in," he called, then was struck with a sense of déjà vu as Tonks' head appeared in the doorway.

"Still not naked, huh?" she asked.

"Are you going to keep coming to my room each night until I am?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

Tonks just smirked. "Who knows?"

Harry groaned. "Does that door lock? I really should check."

Tonks opened the door fully and took a seat on the bed, looking at him with an expression that was a curious mix of excitement and sincerity. "So, I did a little bit of research on your patronus," she began. "Can I see it one more time?"

A little surprised by this abrupt change of topic, Harry shrugged and cast the spell, noting absentmindedly that it seemed to be getting easier each time.

Tonks studied the animal closely before turning back to him with a grin. "Yep, I was right, it's a buffalo. More precisely, it's a Cape buffalo, from Africa. You can tell by the shape of the horns and the way they kind of come together there on the top of the head," she said, gesturing to a bony-looking mound above the animal's eyes.

Harry grunted. "While that's interesting to know, I'm not sure why you wanted to tell me. Great, I have an African buffalo for my patronus. It's not a…" he trailed off.

Tonks peered at him shrewdly. "What kind of animal were you expecting?" she asked.

"I don't know. Something that had some sort of significance to me, I guess," he said with a sigh and no small degree of reluctance. "My dad's patronus and animagus forms were a stag, and when my mum learned the spell, her patronus was a doe. In her diary, she wrote that my dad just wouldn't shut up about how that proved that they were soul mates and such."

Tonks snickered. "Was that before or after they were married?"

"While they were engaged," Harry replied.

"So, you feel like your patronus should be an animal that has some sort of connection to you?" There was a curious tone in Tonks' voice that made Harry look at her in confusion.

"Yes," he said slowly, frowning suspiciously at the smile on her face.

"Y'know, I did some research on Cape buffalos," the pink-haired Auror began. "I think there's more of a connection there than you realize."

"With a buffalo from Africa?" Harry didn't even try to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"There are five animals that are considered the 'big game' that people travel to Africa to hunt. Lions, leopards, elephants, rhinos, and cape buffalos."

"Yay, my spirit animal is famous for being hunted," Harry said in mock celebration. "I guess that fits," he added in an undertone.

"Yes, it gets hunted, but that's not what's significant about it," Tonks continued, though Harry wasn't sure if she was ignoring his second statement, or simply hadn't heard it. "You see, when you first look at it, you would think that the buffalo would be the least dangerous of the five. I mean, seriously, in comparison to lions or elephants, a buffalo just doesn't seem that threatening. But that's completely wrong. Hunters consider the buffalo to be the most dangerous of those animals."

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but be intrigued by her words. He glanced over, a questioning look on his face.

Seemingly pleased that she had his full attention, Tonks continued. "You see, most animals will try to flee from a predator. The cape buffalo, however, does the opposite. When a hunter takes that shot, he'd better pray that it kills the buffalo, because if not, his prey will turn around and hunt _him_. Cape buffalo have been known to fight off lions and crocodiles, and ambush and gore human pursuers. With other animals, if you wound it, the worst-case scenario is it gets away. But with a buffalo, once you attack it, you have to kill it, or it'll kill you. That's the reason it's been given the nickname 'the Widowmaker'."

Harry remained silent, thinking through what she had just said.

"And," Tonks continued with a note of finality, "unlike its cousin the water buffalo, the Cape buffalo has never been domesticated." She looked at him, one eyebrow raised, then turned back to the misty animal in front of them. "You try and control it, and it'll break free or die trying." She stood, and walked to the door before turning to look back at him. "Personally, I think that all fits you pretty well."

The door closed quietly as Tonks left, but Harry hardly paid it any attention. Instead, he was still focused on the patronus in front of him. A small grin spread slowly across his face as he thought back on the Auror's words.

_Voldemort tried to kill me. He failed, and now I'm going to kill him. Umbridge took her shot and missed. She's going down. And I'll never submit to Dumbledore._

"Break free or die trying," he said softly, repeating Tonks' words. That sounded about right.

He didn't start the fights he found himself in, but he was certainly going to end them. As this thought flitted through his mind, his patronus lowered its head as though getting ready to charge. It reminded him of a quote he had once heard, somewhere. _No one provokes me with impunity._

A grim resolve filled him, and Harry found himself smiling as he looked at the glowing animal. Though he was being hunted, he wasn't just going to slink off into the night. He would strike back in a way they never saw coming. In just a few days, his enemies would realize what a grave mistake they had made in targeting him.


	29. Chapter 28: The Trap is Sprung

Chapter 28: The Trap is Sprung

"Y'know, that's not the most flattering picture of me," Harry commented flippantly to Tonks as they entered the Ministry, though he was careful to keep his voice down to avoid being overheard.

"It does seem to have a certain… 'run away screaming because he's a psychotic monster' air to it that you generally lack," Tonks agreed.

If the wanted poster they were observing was aware of them, it gave no indication. Instead, the moving picture continued to scream, almost frothing at the mouth, its eyes wide as it reached out as though straining to escape from the large sheet of paper it was printed on.

"I wonder how they got it. I'm quite certain that I've never acted like that."

"Human transfiguration might be an option, but making it look so much like you would require a true master. They did manage to get your blood. Maybe they found a hair as well for Polyjuice," the Auror suggested. "Or it might be possible to modify Polyjuice to work with blood instead."

"I bet that's what it was," Harry said. "And it was probably Snape who came up with the modified recipe," he theorized, only half-jokingly. "He'd probably love the opportunity to make me look bad like that."

Tonks chuckled. "We could ask," she pointed out slyly, but Harry shook his head.

"We'll have more important things to take up the time." He glanced at his watch. "Now, we have less than two hours 'til showtime. Let's get this application turned in then go find some good seats for the show."

Even as just an Auror Trainee, Tonks' presence allowed them to bypass much of the security, though Harry was sure that even without her aid he could have made it past the obviously inattentive guard. He'd removed the prosthetic scar from his forehead and taken a combination of disguising and aging potions, so the chances of anyone recognizing him were hovering between 'incredibly slim' and 'non-existent'.

Filing the paperwork with the clerk managing the desk in the appropriate department took just a few minutes, and then they were on their way back out.

"Do you really think they'll approve your application?" Tonks asked curiously.

Harry frowned in thought. "If they don't, it's not a problem. But if they haven't responded within thirty days, it's considered approved, though they can revoke the license after further review. And with all the chaos that will be happening in just a few hours, they might overlook a few things." Tonks glanced over at him, and he shrugged. "It might be a long shot, but there's no harm in trying. And if it works, that gives me some legal protection in the future."

"You don't think they'll take one glimpse of your name and throw it in the waste bin?"

"Already thought of that," Harry replied proudly. "I transfigured the application paperwork to have a different name. Bit more complicated than a simple charm, but it's also harder to detect. It should wear off in a day or so without leaving any trace to prove what I did."

"Well, look at you being all sneaky and clever," Tonks teased.

"Ah, yes," he said in a haughty voice, a smug smirk on his face. "Harry Potter, the Slytherin-est Gryffindor to every live."

* * *

For maximum publicity, the presentation would be taking place in Diagon Alley itself. A large stage had been erected in front of the Foundation building, with a podium at the front along with several chairs for those people who would be involved in the proceedings, as well as elevated seats for the Board of Directors further back.

The public seats in the audience were already mostly filled, though the presentation wasn't scheduled to begin for another half hour. _Probably because of the 'rumor' that everyone attending in the seats will be invited to a social afterward with unlimited free desert and firewhiskey, _Harry thought with a smile. That had been one of Connor's suggestions to ensure a good turnout, and it seemed that it was working.

"So, think we should try to get a seat, or should we go for the other option?" Tonks asked.

"And what is this other option?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

Tonks looked around consideringly. "I think we could get a good view from up there," she said pointing to a nearby three-story building.

Harry looked at the building, then back at her, confused. "What? From inside the building? Will they even let us in?"

"Not inside," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. "On top of it. You have your broom, right? We can fly up to the roof."

"Is that legal?" Harry fixed her with a gimlet eye. "Are you sure you aren't breaking some sort of Auror oath by encouraging me to do that?"

Tonks just laughed.

They ducked into an alley, then Harry retrieved his broom. "Hopefully, no one notices this is a Firebolt," he commented. "There aren't many of those in Britain right now, and it's pretty well known that Harry Potter has one of the only ones."

"Yeah, I saw that press release they sent out politely asking Hogwarts faculty to not break any more of their brooms," Tonks snickered as she climbed onto the broom behind him. "The most beautiful example of a passive-aggressive put-down I've seen in a long time."

Harry did his best to ignore the way that his exceptionally attractive companion was pressed right up against him as they flew to the roof, her arms wrapped around his chest and her breath hot against his ear. Though judging by the studiously innocent expression on her face when they dismounted, he hadn't been as successful in hiding his thoughts as he had hoped. _She's not going to let this one go, is she,_ Harry realized with some despair.

"Thanks for letting me ride on your broomstick, Harry," Tonks said, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "It's very impressive how well you handle such a long, hard piece of wood." Just for added emphasis, she ran a finger up and down the Firebolt.

_Is she using her abilities to make her eyes bigger so she looks more innocent? And I'm pretty sure her breasts weren't that size a minute ago._ Harry fought down the urge to blush as he turned away, trying to ignore the guffaws behind him.

Harry carefully approached the edge of the roof and sat down, his legs dangling in the air. Soon, Tonks was seated beside him. To his surprise, the pink-haired woman retrieved something from her pocket. A tap from her wand revealed it to be a magical cooler holding food in stasis.

"So, I've got nachos, butterbeer, popcorn and hot dogs," she announced. "What do you want?"

"I don't care," Harry replied, not entirely honestly. _I don't even want to know what she'd say if I went for the hot dogs._ That would just be ammunition for far too many jokes.

"We can start with the nachos," Tonks decided as she handed him a paper plate covered with crisps and melted cheese. "and have the hot dogs afterward. We'll save the popcorn for the real show."

Looking at the food in front of him warily, Harry grabbed one of the crisps and took a hesitant bite. "Wow, this doesn't look like much, but it's really good."

"You've never had nachos before?" The tone was bad enough, but the horrified look on Tonks' face was just over the top.

"My relatives would never eat anything that's not traditional British food," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

"You poor, deprived child." Tonks clucked sadly, then reached over and pulled Harry close to her, hugging him and pushing his head down so that he was staring right at her chest. "Don't worry, with the two of us, I'm sure that we can find all sorts of new, exciting experiences that will give your body the most incredible, exquisite… _sensations_."

"Are you trying to see if you can make me blush to death?" an exasperated Harry asked as he fought his way free from her grip.

"You know, most guys would be thrilled to have me flirting with them," Tonks said, her face snooty.

"Yeah, I'll leave that to Chad," the boy muttered. He'd seen the way those two were with each other.

* * *

With fifteen minutes before the program was scheduled to start, the reserved seats at the front of the audience began filling up. Harry watched intently as reporters from newspapers across Europe, and even some from America and Canada, began filing in. Despite the impressive turnout, it hadn't taken as much effort as expected to get this much press coverage. Many newspapers had already sent people to get a first-hand look at the riots and protests that had plagued magical Britain for the past few weeks, while others were at least reaching out for information via floo or mail. Dan, in his persona as Victor Grey, Chairman of the Foundation for the Future, had contacted them all and promised that today's presentation would make headlines across the world. Not surprisingly, the prospect of having their name on the byline of a front-page article brought the reporters in droves.

The press were not the only ones with reserved seats, however. Harry watched with mixed emotions as the Inquisitorial Squad from Hogwarts trooped out of the Foundation building and began to seat themselves just behind the reporters.

His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a familiar figure with bright red hair. Though Percy had appeared horrified when Harry had been tortured by Umbridge, it seemed that he had gotten over his concerns. Or was he just to scared of the possible consequences if he tried to pull away from them now? Harry frowned at that thought.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Tonks asked through a mouthful of nachos, interrupting his mental debate.

"Percy Weasley," Harry replied absentmindedly.

"There's some really cute girls your age down there, and you're thinking of Percy Weasley?" Tonks raised an eyebrow speculatively, clearly struggling to keep the grin off her face. "Harry… is there something you want to tell me?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but made no other response, instead continuing to observe the Hogwarts students down below. And, of course, thanks to his companion's comment about the cute girls, his attention was constantly drawn back to Daphne Greengrass, looking particularly attractive with her long hair elaborately styled and a set of robes that fit her form exceptionally well.

The teen sighed. Luckily, the award ceremony would begin soon. Surely there would be a limit to how much teasing Tonks would be able to fit in before that.

* * *

"That's an interesting combination of condiments you put on your dog, Harry," Tonks said. He glanced over at her, immediately suspicious of the air of innocence she was once more exuding. "I don't suppose you'd let me have a taste of your wiener?"

"Dang it, Tonks!"

* * *

And finally, the presentation began.

A hush fell over the crowd as 'Victor Grey' walked out onto the stage, accompanied by Cornelius Fudge, Dolores Umbridge, and, of course, the man of the hour himself – Lucius Malfoy.

Dan stepped up to the podium, a broad smile on his face, while the others took their seats behind him. "I'd like to thank you all for coming today. This is a wonderful opportunity for all of us, and I can truly say that I hope today's presentation will be the start of something that continues on for many years as we work to build a better future." There was a brief swell of applause that quieted down as Dan raised his hand in acknowledgement.

"We'd like to thank the Ministry for their support here today, especially for the Aurors who are providing security. And we would like to especially acknowledge Dolores Umbridge, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, who is doing everything she can to take hold of the our foundering education system and steer it through the rough times that we are now facing."

Umbridge's toad-like face shown with glee at this praise. Harry noted with a touch of amusement that Dan had said she was trying to take control, not that she was actually doing anything good with the control she had, though it didn't appear anyone who wasn't already in the know had picked up on that.

"For any of you who do not know, I am Victor Grey, the chairman of the Foundation for the Future. And today, we are focusing on a man who has played a pivotal role in getting our society where it is today. A man who has touched many lives. A leader in our community. I am, of course, speaking of Lucius Malfoy." Another wave of applause sounded.

Harry looked at their target, who was smiling proudly at the support he was receiving. _He has no idea._ The thought almost made him giddy.

"Now, as you can see on the program we handed out, Minister Fudge is going to share a few words on his experiences with Lucius Malfoy. Minister?"

Fudge strode up to the podium, a pompous expression on his face as he looked out over the crowd. "I first met Lucius Malfoy had a fundraiser dinner for Saint Mungo's. Lucius had already made a very generous contribution, impressing many, but he didn't do it for the praise that it so rightfully garnered. He did it because it was the right thing to do, and as I have gotten to know him better over the years, I can say with complete confidence that that is just the sort of man that my good friend Lucius is."

* * *

Harry ignored the Minister's heavy-handed praise as he droned on, instead turning to Tonks. "He's really digging his own grave here, isn't he?"

"I wonder how quickly he'll try to backtrack when it's all done," Tonks laughed as she handed him a bag of popcorn.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Fudge finally finished what should have been about a two-minute speech.

"Thank you, Minister, for those words. It's good to know that you are so approving and supportive of such a distinguished citizen," Dan said as he stepped up next to the overweight politician, oozing false sincerity. "Mister Malfoy, would you care to join us?"

Cameras flashed as Malfoy stepped up, holding his walking stick and dressed in the finest robes money could buy.

"Now, before we proceed on to the actual presentation of the award, I would like to take just a moment to talk a little bit more about Mister Malfoy. I think the audience deserves a chance to get to know more about the real man behind the myth, and to learn why we chose him specifically."

Harry grinned as Dan reached over and tapped a rune on the podium. _This is it._ The shock and panic on the faces of Malfoy and Fudge was a delight to see as they realized they were being held immobile from the neck down.

"We have some questions for Malfoy, and I think that you all will find the answers to those questions to be illuminating," Dan said bluntly, dropping his veneer of refinement as he glared at the captive Death Eater.

"Minister Fudge is being held immobile and silenced; he will not be able to say anything, though he can hear everything," the chairman explained. "Mister Malfoy, on the other hand, can only hear what I say. The reason for this is that I'm going to interrogate him under veritaserum, and I don't want him responding to every question people may ask. So don't bother shouting out questions, he can't hear you. Instead, I would ask that you all be patient and listen closely." His smile turned distinctly predatory. "There's a lot of material that we need to cover, and veritaserum only lasts for about an hour, so we need to cover it all quickly."

Malcolm Prewett, in his guise as fellow board member Mister Malcolm, took a step forward and held up a large vial of veritaserum for the audience. Harry was pleased to note that Umbridge and the other board members were all clearly panicking, but also unable to move. The aurors to the sides of the stage were trying to break through the protective charms, though they weren't having any luck.

"Now, before we start the interrogation, I'd like to clarify a bit about the legal side of things. You see, it is illegal in magical Britain to use veritaserum on someone without their consent or a Wizengamot order, and any information gathered through an unauthorized interrogation is not permissible in court. So you may wonder what we are doing here."

Dan took a step away from the podium and raised a hand, looking almost like a professor lecturing his pupils. "Well, we set this up very carefully. You see, everyone on the stand is a member of the Foundation for the Future, and when they joined, they signed a contract. It is legally binding, but it's not magically binding, so none of them really paid as close attention as they should have when signing it, which allowed us to put some clauses in that I'm sure Malfoy and his ilk will not appreciate."

"Rather than boring you with all of the minute details, we've prepared a press release complete with all of the relevant clauses and bylaws for your review afterward, but I will touch on just a few of the highlights."

"First, is that in the Foundation's bylaws, it states that the chairman of the board of directors, that is to say, myself, may, with the approval of one member of the board, initiate an investigation into any of its members should sufficient cause be found to suspect that a member is acting in a manner that may bring the Foundation into disrepute." He looked over at Malfoy, his expression darkening. "As you will see, that certainly applies here today." He turned to look at Malcolm. "But just to make it all official, Mister Malcolm, I believe that it would be wise for us investigate the allegations against Lucius Malfoy of rape, murder, terrorism, and other such crimes."

"I agree," Malcolm said with a malicious grin.

"Well, that's covered," Dan said, turning back to the enraptured audience with a smile.

"Second, upon the conclusion of such an investigation, the most severe punishment that the Foundation can inflict upon an individual is to excommunicate them from our organization," he continued. "However, the findings of that investigation may be turned over to the Aurors for use in the prosecution of any crimes that may have been committed, even if those crimes were committed before the individual joined the Foundation for the Future."

"Third, non-harmful potions up to Class B may be used during the course of the investigation. Veritaserum, for your information, has been classified by the ministry as Class-B, non-harmful."

"And finally, if an individual is to be questioned against their will, the Minister for Magic and every member of the Board of Directors must be present or provide written acknowledgement and authorization for the interrogation. And as you can all see, our Minister and the board have kindly consented to join us today, fulfilling that clause."

Harry couldn't help the proud look on his face at the startled whispers this explanation produced. True, most of the details had been hammered out by Dan and Peter, but it had been his general idea to begin with.

"Now, some of these clauses are in the contract they signed upon joining the Foundation, and others are carefully hidden throughout the bylaws, but since the contract includes a provision stating that by signing, they agree to follow and adhere to all requirements, conditions and provisions set forth in the bylaws, by signing, every person that we will be interrogating here today has consented to be questioned under veritaserum, and agreed that any information we learn here today will be given to the Aurors for use in prosecuting them before the Wizengamot for their crimes."

"You can only interrogate a member of the Board of Directors with a three quarters majority vote of the board," Malfoy managed to gasp out.

"That's true, but you're not a member," Dan replied unconcernedly. "You _were_ a member prior to our last meeting, and the plan was for you to take a seat on the board once more today, but, as you can clearly see on the program, the invitation to join the board is _after_ the award has been presented, which we haven't gotten to yet. So, you're not a board member, and have no such protection." He shrugged. "Nice try, though."

Malfoy continued to struggle ineffectually, but it was futile. Malcolm administered the potion, and the questions began.

They only had a limited amount of time, so Harry, Peter and Dan had carefully evaluated Malfoy's crimes and listed the questions in a specific order for what they hoped would be maximum effectiveness. Naturally, they decided to start with a bang.

"Did you join the terrorist known as Lord Voldemort of your own free will?"

"Yes," came the monotone reply.

Whispers erupted from the audience, and Fudge looked at the man he had just praised, horrified.

"During your time in his service, did you commit any murders?"

"Yes," Malfoy said again.

"Do you recall how many people you have murdered or helped to murder?"

There was a brief pause. "No," was the answer.

"Did you kill or help to kill more than ten people?"

"Yes."

"More than twenty people?"

"Yes."

"Did you torture anyone?"

"Yes."

"Did you rape anyone?"

Again, the response was the same. "Yes."

By now, the cameras were flashing once more, and the reporters were hurriedly scribbling notes. Everyone else in the audience was whispering.

"Oh, look at my poor cousin down there," Tonks said, chortling gleefully.

Harry snickered as he looked over. She was right, Draco Malfoy looked like he was about to faint. Or maybe vomit. _Too bad the protections don't let anybody leave the audience._

"We don't have time to try to determine every single one of Malfoy's victims, so we'll just ask about a few, very prominent cases," Dan stated, looking out over the gathered crowd before turning back to Malfoy. "Did you participate in the brutal rape, torture and murder of Marlene McKinnon?"

Harry heard Tonks suck in a breath at this question, though he wasn't surprised at her anger. He'd read the very sickening Auror report of what had been done to the poor woman. It was especially disturbing to think that she had been the same age as his parents.

"Yes" Malfoy admitted.

"Did you participate in the attack on the Bones family, which resulted in the deaths of Edgar and Camila Bones, as well as their three underage children?"

"Yes."

"Did you participate in the rape of Camila Bones or her thirteen-year-old daughter Adrienne?"

Harry leaned forward. This one they weren't quite as sure on. To gather the necessary information, they'd already interrogated a few of the 'lesser' exonerated Death Eaters such as Crabbe and Goyle, as well as the convicted Death Eaters who had been transferred to their prison, but no one could confirm Malfoy's participation in that disgusting act. That was why they had deliberately phrased the question with an 'or' instead of an 'and', hoping to maximize their chances.

"Yes," came the reply once more.

Having thoroughly proven the despicable nature of his crimes during the Blood War, the questions turned to more recent actions.

"During the summer of 1992, did you slip an enchanted diary to a young girl in Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," came the monotone reply.

"Who was that girl?"

"Ginevra Weasley."

"Who gave you that diary?"

"My master."

"Do you mean Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes"

"What was the purpose of the diary as you understand it?"

"It was enchanted to open the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing the monster within."

"Do you know what the monster was?"

"Yes."

"What was the monster in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"A basilisk."

Screams of shock sounded from the crowd down below. Harry was amused to see that many more people had joined the throng, no doubt called in by friends or relatives to witness the incredible sight.

Tonks leaned over. "No one seems to have noticed that we didn't ask if he knew at the time what the monster was, not that I think it would matter." Indeed, Malfoy hadn't known until just a few days ago, when 'Victor Grey' had shown him an old article from the New York Magical Times about the sale of the basilisk carcass, claiming that his 'sources' had learned that it had been killed at Hogwarts. Not that anyone needed to know that.

It was clear that many in the audience wished they could leap up on stage and murder Malfoy for his crimes that very minute, but Dan continued without stopping.

"What role did you play in the death of Sirius Black?"

"I bribed one guard to starve him, and blackmailed another."

"To the best of your knowledge, was Sirius Black a Death Eater?"

"No."

"The Black inheritance was given to you, as part of the Inheritance Safeguard Act, on the grounds that he was a Death Eater and you were not. This was clearly a lie. Did you have any legal grounds for claiming the Black inheritance?"

"No."

"How did you arrange to be awarded the inheritance?"

"I bribed Fudge," Malfoy said, and Harry had to laugh at the panicked look on the Minister's face.

"How much did you pay him?"

"Five thousand galleons," came the reply.

"Fudge should have asked for more," Tonks commented. "According to my Mum's estimate, that's less than a tenth of a percent."

"Do you know who would have inherited had you not intervened?" Dan continued.

"Yes."

Harry tensed. _This is it._

"Who would have inherited?"

"Harry Potter."

"Are you aware that Harry Potter has grounds to call for fiscal retribution against House Malfoy for your theft of his rightful inheritance?"

"Yes," Malfoy said again, and Harry pumped a fist in victory.

"Yes," he whispered triumphantly.

"Quit stealing Malfoy's lines," Tonks said, nudging him with her elbow.

Harry rolled his eyes, but was too pleased with Malfoy's admission to care about the Auror's teasing. Lucius Malfoy would be in prison for the rest of his life thanks to the crimes he had confessed to here today, but Harry knew Draco would always be a thorn in his side. Lucius agreeing that Harry had justification to inflict the archaic financial penalty would likely cripple House Malfoy monetarily for years to come. Once again, it had taken some careful preparation to ensure the man would answer correctly, but the payoff was immensely satisfying.

"Were you concerned before now of such a possibility?"

"No."

"If Potter had tried to call for fiscal retribution, how would you have responded?"

"I would have bribed Fudge to shut the case down, then arranged for Potter to be killed."

Somehow, Fudge's face managed to pale even further. Given the confession about the Black inheritance, no one had any doubts that he would have done so, and it was clear that the rotund man knew it.

"Have you ever exerted unlawful influence in the Auror department, either through bribes, blackmail, or any other means to prevent a crime from being properly investigated or prosecuted?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever exerted unlawful influence in the Auror department to sabotage an Auror's career?

"Yes," the man admitted once again.

"Which Auror or Auror-in-Training have you done the most to sabotage in recent years?"

Harry glanced over at Tonks, who was now looking confused by this line of questioning.

"Nymphadora Tonks."

Tonks looked over at Harry, and he smiled at her startled expression. "Come on, you don't think I want to be the only one known for being screwed over by Malfoy, do you?"

"Thanks, Harry," she said with genuine emotion.

"Why her?" Dan continued.

"I was concerned that she could be a potential claimant for the Black inheritance once Sirius Black was dead."

"How did you sabotage her career?"

"I bribed two of the trainers to falsely report her performance so she would be scored lower than the other trainees. I also blackmailed an archivist to remove evidence on a crime she had assisted in processing so that she would be blamed for the criminal going free, resulting in a permanent mark on her record."

Tonks obviously knew exactly what he was talking about. "I knew I submitted that spell report!" the young woman exclaimed. "That bastard!"

"Have you sabotaged any other Auror's careers?"

"Yes."

"Which other Aurors have you sabotaged?

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Gawain Robards, and Eldrin Proudfoot."

* * *

The questions continued for quite some time, but eventually the hour was up.

"As you can tell, there are a wide range of serious crimes that need to be investigated and prosecuted," Dan said. "And, unfortunately, it's not just Lucius Malfoy who is guilty. We're going to continue interrogating the members of the board, as well as the High Inquisitor, Dolores Umbridge."

Harry smirked as Umbridge turned pale and seemed to be trying to protest, though nobody could hear her.

"As Malfoy said, a member of the Board of Directors cannot be interrogated without a three quarters majority vote of the board. However, as you can probably imagine, we put a little loophole in there. The chairman of the board may, with the support of one member of the board, challenge the position of any board member, calling for the rest of the board to vote on whether or not they should permitted to retain their seat. Naturally, anyone whose position has been called into question does not get to cast their vote in that decision. For someone to be removed from the board requires at least an eighty percent majority." He looked back at Malcolm. "So, Mister Malcolm, I have cause to believe that, given their close association with Lucius Malfoy and the facts we have learned today, every member of the board except for you and I are not deserving of their position, and thus, call for a vote on whether or not they should retain their seats."

"I agree," his partner replied promptly.

"Since anyone whose seat has been called into question does not get a vote, that means it's just you and I. All in favor of them being removed from the board?" Both hands were raised. "Then it's unanimous. They are no longer board members, and thus, have no protection from the same procedures we used to interrogate Malfoy." Even from the roof above, Harry could see that Dan and Malcolm were grinning as the captive board members struggled.

They didn't spend as long on the rest of the interrogations, just enough to show that they, too, had committed similar crimes. Some protested, but there was nothing they could do, bound as they were.

Not surprisingly, Umbridge's confession that she had arranged for the potion explosion over the summer as an attempt on Harry's life, then aided in Fudge's attempt to have him convicted unfairly brought howls of derision from the audience. And that was nothing compared to when Umbridge admitted that she had used the Cruciatus Curse on Harry, and that Pansy had lied about the attempted rape.

"I wonder if Pansy has finally started to realize just how much she screwed up," Harry said with a smile as he looked at the horrified girl down in the audience now glancing around fearfully as the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad were doing their best to distance themselves from her.

When Agamemnon Nott tried to avoid the interrogation by resigning from the Foundation, Dan happily explained that they would be pleased to no longer have him as a member, and that after he had completed and submitted form 27-B as stated in the bylaws, they would process his removal from the organization. Until that time, however, he was considered a full-fledged member, with all the privileges and obligations that held.

* * *

Hours passed, but no one complained – at least, no one who hadn't been revealed as a criminal. And finally, it was over.

"Thank you all for coming here today. I hope that it was as exciting of an experience for all of you as it was for me. We will be handing these people over to the Aurors to be prosecuted for their crimes."

A loud wave of laughter engulfed the crowd as both Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy lost control of their bladders. Tonks almost choked, butterbeer shooting out of her nose. "I can't believe he actually did it," she muttered.

"What?"

"Chad. He was talking about putting a prank spell on the stage to make them pee their pants. I can't believe he actually went through with it."

Harry certainly wasn't going to complain. Turning Malfoy into an object of scorn rather than fear would do a great deal to damage the pureblood agenda going forward. And, of course, it would give him something to taunt Draco over. Not that he would ever do such a thing.

Dan, of course, had not paused despite the minor distraction. "And since, as we took great pains to amply demonstrate, our actions here today were perfectly legal, if these criminals are not punished to the full extent of the law, it will serve as proof that the Wizengamot and Aurors are corrupt as well." He glanced off to the side, where the Aurors were still waiting, though they had stopped attempting to break through the barrier. "I hope you will all be watching the events of the next few days very closely. I assure you, my compatriots and I will be."

With that, he tapped a rune on the podium, and everyone could see the protections deactivate, though everyone on stage was still held immobile.

Aurors rushed onto the platform, though it was clear they weren't certain who they should be arresting.

"Mister Scrimgeour," Malcolm called out. "It appears that your Aurors could use some clarification on their orders."

The head of the DMLE was obviously furious, though his rage seemed to be directed mostly at Fudge and Umbridge. "Arrest the criminals," he commanded with a snarl. "Mister Grey and Mister Malcolm are free to go, with our thanks for their assistance in these matters."

Harry could only smile as Dan and Malcom walked calmly off the stage, leaving utter bedlam in their wake.


	30. Chapter 29: What's in a Name

A/N – First off, my most sincere apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out. I have the stories written ahead (I have the whole series outlined, and I'm currently in book 4 on the actual writing) but ended up making some significant changes to my plan for books 4 & 5. I think this will improve the story overall, but I had to go back through and rework large sections that I had already written to accommodate the adjustments. That took longer than I expected and combined with some traveling I was doing and regular life getting somewhat busy, there was a very long delay – as I'm sure many of you noticed.

The good news is, I think I've got all my modifications fully integrated into the story now, so we should be back on weekly posting.

I normally don't like to do recaps because it just inflates the word count, but since it's been a while, I'll just refresh everyone's memory of the major events, as well as the OC's I've introduced. Feel free to skip down to the actual start of the chapter if you want.

Harry's team:

Peter Wilson – 1st team member contacted by Harry. Head Boy 2 years after Harry's parents. Ravenclaw. Runs the show in Harry's absence. Tends to be quiet and thoughtful. General knowledge, quite interested in government and justice.

Chad Pfluegerman – American and proud of it. Always enthusiastic, tends to be a little bit ostentatious during presentations. Focuses on technomancy, runes and arithmancy.

Henry 'Mac' MacArthur – 40+ years of experience years as an Auror, 11 as a hitwizard. Bold and blunt, he'll always call it as he sees it.

Michelle Fairbanks – Studied potions, but couldn't get in as a healer. Returned to Muggle World, worked odd jobs until met husband. Particularly interested in history.

Connor Fairbanks – Muggle, but enthusiastic about learning about magic. Has a surprising amount of knowledge of runes and arithmancy. Electrical Engineer, works well with Chad on technomancy.

Ferdinand 'Dan' Falkenson – Comes from a poor pureblood family, similar to Weasleys. Realized early on that he wouldn't be able to get far in the wizarding world, so began learning about the muggle world. Very successfully self-employed as a freelance business advisor/consultant.

Malcolm Prewett – Molly Weasley's second-cousin accountant. Good friends with Dan, who he sometimes works with. He's a squib, but isn't bitter about not having magic, though he did decide it would be best to live in the muggle world.

Heather Wilson – Peter's wife, has a background in education. Doesn't do much with the team, but she does help out now and then.

Other OC's:

Isobel Caron – A French healer who has an independent clinic focusing on strange or unusual cases. Harry goes to her regarding his scar.

Brian Williams (a.k.a. 'Bembe') – Magical specialist with an emphasis in Voodoo, recommended by Healer Caron. He was able to cleanse the soul shard from Harry's scar, and is now helping the team deal with Voldemort's horcruxes.

Anatoli Ivankov – Harry's summer tutor from Durmstrang. Originally taught runes and rituals, but familiar with many other subjects. Retired when Karkaroff became headmaster.

A quick recap on the story:

Harry interrogated Umbridge under Veritaserum, learning of a massive conspiracy that had resulted in several individuals being unlawfully imprisoned in Azkaban, and two women being forced to work in a brothel. He and his team rescued the women in the brothel (destroying it in the process) and arranged for the individuals in Azkaban to be released (by claiming that they wanted to use the people as lab rats in their experiments, an excuse that the corrupt department head was all too happy to support). They used their newpaper, Veritas, to expose the corruption, resulting in many large-scale protests against the ministry, some even turning to violent riots.

In retaliation, Umbridge convinced Pansy Parkinson to accuse Harry of attempted rape. After he was taken into custody, Pansy admitted that the charges were false (in front of the entire Inquisitorial Squad, as well as two Aurors) but claimed that nobody would believe him over her. Umbridge agrees and accuses Harry of additional crimes – the destruction of the brothel, and of being a member of Justice who had attacked students the previous year. She even went so far as to use the Cruciatus curse on him to try to force him to confess and give up the identities of the rest of Justice.

Harry was able to escape (with some help from himself, making use of Hermione's Time-Turner), and warned his team that the Ministry was coming after them. Everyone managed to escape, though Peter and Heather Wilson's home was destroyed.

For months, Harry had been working on a plan to use the Foundation for the Future to publicly expose the crimes of many of the 'exonerated' Death Eaters, such as Lucius Malfoy, as well as the corrupt elements in the Ministry. It worked, and Malfoy, Umbridge and several others confessed under Veritaserum to many crimes.

* * *

Chapter 29: What's in a Name

_It's amazing how much can change in just a week_, Harry thought with no small amount of satisfaction as he glanced at the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. Not surprisingly, the paper was still focusing on the major shockwaves still echoing throughout magical Britain as a result of Harry's scheme with the Foundation for the Future. Of course, given that Harry and his team had arranged to purchase the companies that supplied the Prophet with paper and ink, the editor didn't have much choice but to go along with Harry's instructions – not that he knew Harry was behind it all.

In fact, to the last Potter's great relief, it seemed that nobody had picked up on the fact that Harry had been the driving force behind the whole affair. And he certainly wasn't going to be publicly admitting his part anytime soon.

He frowned at the paper as he took in the headline story. To say that it was completely unexpected was an understatement.

_Narcissa Malfoy volunteers for Veritaserum questioning._

"_I find the depth of my former husband's crimes disgusting"_

Harry frowned as he quickly scanned the article. Not surprisingly, Draco's mother was being painted as an innocent victim, caught in an impossible situation. She had confessed that she had known of some of his crimes, but not all. And given that she had no proof of those crimes she did know about, had no choice but to pretend to be a dutiful wife while, in reality, living in fear. While the article used actual responses from the interrogation to demonstrate Narcissa's innocence, Harry couldn't help but wonder. After all, he knew firsthand how a carefully phrased question could result in an answer that was technically true, but entirely misleading. Hopefully, the actual interrogation was much more thorough than it seemed based on the Prophet's report, but Harry wasn't too optimistic on that score. _Maybe Tonks will know more._

When he had finished that article, a second headline drew his attention once more.

_Boy-who-lived still missing!_

_When will our hero return?_

The article then went on to describe (just in case the reader was somehow unaware) the circumstances under which Harry was forced to flee for his life, though he was quite irritated to see that Pansy had been described as 'a naïve schoolgirl led astray by corrupt government officials'. _She knew exactly what she was doing_, he thought with disgust as he tossed the paper on the nightstand, next to the copy of the Merlinian Discourses that he had recently started reading.

A knock sounded at the door, and Harry looked up. "Come in," he called.

Peter entered the room, glancing at the newspaper on the nightstand. "I take it you've read that," he said, gesturing to the Prophet.

Harry sighed. "Not everything, but I did look at the major headlines. Why?"

"They do have a good question. When are you planning on going back?"

Harry couldn't help the smile that spread on his lips. "That anxious to be rid of me?" he joked.

Peter made no response.

"I don't know," Harry confessed after a moment. "I've been thinking about it for a while, but I'm just not in the mood to go back to Hogwarts."

The older man looked thoughtful. "I can understand that Hogwarts may not be your favorite place, especially after these past months with Umbridge, but wouldn't it be good to be back with people your own age?"

"Are they my age?" Harry asked, finally admitting something that had been bothering him for some time now. At Peter's questioning glance, he explained, "With how much I've used Timeland, I figure I'm about two years older than I should be, probably a little more. Before, I was always one of the smaller people in my classes. Now, I think Dean is the only one in my year that's taller than me, and it's not by much. I just feel like I have hardly anything in common with most of them. Like they're a bunch of little kids, and I'm stuck pretending to be one of them."

"Is that a sign of physical maturity, or emotional?" Peter pointed out. "The biggest problem most of them have to deal with is whether or not Mary will say yes when they ask her to Hogsmeade. Ever since you started Hogwarts, you've had much larger issues that you've been forced to confront. It makes sense that those experiences would change you."

Harry gestured emphatically toward his older friend. "Exactly! Why would I want to go back to a place like that? I'm learning enough on my own." He let out a slow sigh. "In fact, since I study ahead in most subjects, I really haven't been learning in the classes themselves. It just feels like a big waste of time."

"What about Neville and Hermione?" Peter inquired. "Wouldn't you like to see them again?"

"Yeah, but…" Harry floundered for a minute, trying to figure out how to put his feelings into words. "I would love to spend time with them. If it was summer, and we could just hang out, or go to the movies, or something like that, I would be all for that. But going back to school isn't the same thing. Sitting next to each other in class or doing homework together isn't quite as fun." Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I'll go back eventually. But I just need a little longer. After everything that's happened this year, this is the first time since Umbridge blew up my room that I've been able to just relax."

"I can certainly understand that," Peter remarked candidly. "You're not the only one who's enjoying a rare moment of peace during a time of major upheaval in your life."

Harry cringed a little, remembering that the Wilsons' home had been destroyed by corrupt Aurors attempting to arrest Harry's supporters. It was unlikely that Peter had intended it that way, but Harry still felt guilty, regardless.

"Ultimately, it is your choice, but I just worry that the longer you wait, the harder it will be to go back," Peter finished, before leaving Harry to his thoughts.

* * *

The day passed quickly, as was the norm now. Harry spent a few hours in the morning studying, mostly Charms and Defense, with a little Arithmancy at the end. Though he hadn't been allowed to take the class, that hadn't stopped him from studying the material. He had already learned a great deal over the summer thanks to his lessons with Professor Ivankov, and with his continuing education, he was well into the fourth-year content already.

_There will be some changes when I get back to Hogwarts_, the teen vowed. Before, he had reluctantly acquiesced to the headmaster's demands regarding his classes because he didn't consider it worth the effort to fight back. Now, that had changed. _I don't care what the Ministry says, I refuse to allow Dumbledore to have any say in my life anymore. _

After lunch, he spent an hour outside playing frisbee with the Wilson boys, nine-year-old Eric and six-year-old Michael, before retreating inside for some recreational reading.

Settling himself on the bed, he grabbed the copy of the Merlinian Discourses that Luna had given him for Christmas, using the bookmark to flip open to where he had left off.

_I know Peter said that this book had been proven to be false, but it sounded like he had never actually read it._ Harry sighed as he paused once again to think about what he had just read. He wasn't the most knowledgeable on modern science, but he knew a little bit. And some of what he was reading in a supposedly fictitious book originally written more than a thousand years ago sounded surprisingly familiar. The terminology was different, but the core principles had a shocking similarity to what he had learned before coming to Hogwarts. Of course, the claims in the book regarding the origin of magical humans did seem a little farfetched, and even contradictory in some places, but that didn't mean the whole thing was make-believe.

_Connor's the most scientifically inclined member of the group, _Harry thought. _I wonder what he would think of it._

* * *

With the magical government no longer hunting them, most of Harry's employees had returned to their homes, though they still gathered most nights to discuss the latest news from the Ministry. The fact that dinner was provided was merely a side benefit.

Not surprisingly, the Ministry and Wizengamot had reacted strongly to what was being called 'The Foundation for the Future Scandal' – a name that irritated Harry to no end given that it seemed to imply that it was the Foundation's fault, rather than giving them credit for solving the problem. While regular reports were made to the public, usually through the Daily Prophet, claiming that the government was working to fix any problems and enact changes that would eliminate any minor pockets of corruption, it was difficult to get any real information about what was happening.

Fortunately for Harry and his people, they had an inside source.

"Sorry I'm late," Tonks said as she hurried in. "Heard some interesting scuttlebutt as I was leaving and wanted to look into it a little more."

"Not a problem," Harry replied, glancing down at the table, where the leftover fried chicken was sitting. "Would you like to report first, or would you rather eat while everyone else takes their turn?"

"You all go first. I'm starving," Tonks said as she grabbed the nearest bucket and began helping herself.

Unfortunately for the metamorph, there wasn't much news that needed to be shared with the group. Malcolm's report that the Prophet had already located a new paper supplier was met with some surprise, but there was no indication of when a new ink supplier would be found.

"Apparently, the paper is just purchased from a non-magical company, then treated with a few simple potions, so it was not difficult for another paper company to expand their production," the red-haired man explained. "The ink is a much more complicated issue. They may have to reach out to another country to get the volume that they would need."

"Still, that means that our leverage on the paper is running out," Michelle said with a frown.

"Do we have a plan for what to do with those companies once the Prophet is using other suppliers?" Dan asked. "It wasn't cheap buying them. I'd hate to think that it was a total waste."

"I've been thinking about that, and I would like to start our own publishing company," Harry said. "Not only is it the logical thing to do with paper and ink, but I think it could be another way to further our agenda. For example, Michelle," he said, gesturing to the blonde woman, "has been working on a book about the war with Grindelwald that paints Dumbledore in a less-than-favorable light. I'm not sure if Obscurus would be willing to print something like that, so we had considered looking abroad. If we can print it ourselves, that saves us a lot of hassle."

Michelle nodded in agreement. "Most people don't realize this, but Obscurus Books has an almost complete monopoly on publishing in the magical world, or, at least, in magical Britain, and they have some sort of a deal with Hogwarts. Part of it is due to the way the policies for the Department of Magical Education have been written, but Hogwarts pretty much sets the curriculum for all schools in Britain. I can't say this for certain, but I've heard that Obscurus makes a point of getting all of their educational books approved by Dumbledore prior to publication."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Dan remarked. "The market for books is not a large one, with only about 20,000 people in magical Britain. I'd guess that most of their sales come from the textbooks that students are required to buy. And if the Headmaster of Britain's premier educational institution didn't approve of a certain text and refused to allow it to be used in his school…" he trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

"Will we be able to sell many books then?" Malcolm asked. "It doesn't sound like there will be much demand."

"I doubt we'll make much money, but, as Harry said, it will be a big help with our goals." Peter pointed out. "We announced months ago that the Foundation would be offering summer tuition for members or their children. With the change in policy to allow anyone to join the Foundation, we predict that a large portion of the students in Britain will take advantage of the opportunity. It would be good if we had some material prepared to give them. Not formal textbooks," he clarified, "something more like a practical 'how-to' guide."

Chad looked skeptical. "Really, you think a bunch of kids will be excited about the idea of summer school?"

It was Michelle who answered. "I've begun work on the curriculum for the various classes, given that education is one of my interests," she said with a nod. "I've already identified a few teachers that I believe will be able to provide informational lessons that are still enjoyable and engaging for the students. And given that there will be no homework assigned and no grades, I can easily see teenagers willing to attend for a lesson or two each day – especially if it means they get to hang out with their friends in Diagon afterward."

It was clear that Chad was not convinced, but the American made no reply.

When no one else had any news to report, all eyes turned to Tonks, who quickly swallowed a large mouthful of chicken (her throat bulging so noticeably that Harry knew she must have been using her shape-shifting ability) then quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"So, big news from the Ministry today. Amelia Bones is going to be installed as an interim Minister," the pink-haired woman announced. "The actual election will be held in June."

Harry took a moment to digest this information.

"I'm surprised it's not Scrimgeour," Peter remarked. "Isn't the head of the DMLE usually first in line to take over in the event that the Minister is unable to fulfill his duties?"

Tonks nodded. "Yes, but there's enough suspicion falling on Scrimgeour right now that I wouldn't be surprised if he resigns soon."

"Good," Harry said forcefully. "He may not have been willing to go along with Fudge and Malfoy once their crimes were exposed, but he had no problem playing along over the summer when Fudge tried to get me convicted."

"Any idea who will take over the DMLE if Scrimgeour does resign?" Connor asked.

"There's been some speculation, but nothing solid," Tonks replied. "Proudfoot or Shacklebolt, maybe? Before everything came to light, Dawlish probably would have been a candidate, but now that everyone knows the truth about the attacks on Harry, he's facing some pretty heavy scrutiny."

"Do you think he was involved?" Harry's voice was hard.

"I doubt it. Dawlish… he's certainly a government stooge, but I doubt that he would go along with something like that. Not like Gibbon."

"What did happen to Gibbon?" Michelle asked. "I don't remember hearing anything about him being arrested."

"He and two other Aurors who were heavily implicated in the corruption have vanished," Tonks reported with a sigh. "No clue as to where they are or what they're doing."

Just then, the door burst open and Heather Wilson entered, looking excited. "I solved the mystery of the 'I am'," she announced.

Harry blinked, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Looking around the room, he could see that he wasn't the only one confused.

"From the Death Manifesto?" Michelle asked, a little uncertainly.

"Exactly," Heather replied. Seeing that most people were still confused, she explained. "As you may remember, Voldemort left a message behind in 1970 when he killed the leaders of a muggleborn advocacy group called Equitas. In it, he refers to himself as Lord Voldemort two times, and both times, the name is preceded by the words 'I am', even when it doesn't really make sense to do so."

"And you know why he did that," Harry prompted.

"Yes, and it's proof that Tom Riddle really was Voldemort," Heather answered with a smile as she cleared off a spot on the table and set down a handful of torn pieces of paper. "I was reading to the boys, and the book that we're reading, _Redwall_, has a sort of prophecy about the main character. In it, the prophecy uses the phrase 'I am that is', which they later discover is an anagram for 'I, Matthias' – who is the main character."

Harry looked at the slips of paper she had placed on the table, seeing a variety of letters written on them, which she arranged to spell out 'I am Lord Voldemort'. His mouth fell open as he began to understand what she was saying. He wasn't the only one.

"So, this is an anagram?" Connor asked, peering curiously at the display before him.

"For 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'," Heather confirmed, as she rearranged the papers to demonstrate.

Michelle stood and dashed out of the room, returning a short while later with a binder in her hands, which she quickly flipped through. "Let's see… " she muttered. "Ah, here it is." She looked up. "The manifesto says, 'I am Lord Voldemort, speaking unto those of magical blood…' etcetera."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, speaking unto those of magical blood," Peter said thoughtfully.

Michelle nodded. "And the other time is 'Magical Britain will always remember I am Lord Voldemort, the rightful heir of my noble ancestor'."

Harry nodded, amazed. "They'll remember Tom Marvolo Riddle, the rightful heir." He looked over at Heather. "You're right, you solved it."

"Not to put a damper on this," Chad interjected, "but, while it's interesting, does it really matter? I mean, does this give us any information about him that we didn't already know?"

Everyone paused, looking at each other as they thought about the question.

"If he got that idea from this book, could he have gotten other ideas as well?" Connor suggested.

Heather shook her head. "No, he didn't get the idea from _Redwall_. It only came out a few years ago. It must just be a coincidence." She sighed. "Which means that, unfortunately, Chad's right. While interesting, this doesn't really help us."

"Not necessarily," Michelle said quickly. "May I see those papers?" she requested, then began to rearrange them into a new order. Finally, she let out a sigh. "There's something that I've been considering for a few weeks now. As you may recall, Voldemort killed three leaders of Equitas when he left the Death Manifesto. A fourth individual, named David Möller, was also heavily involved with the leadership of the group, but he apparently escaped."

"I remember now. Didn't you say that he was one of the more violent members of the group?" Peter asked.

"Yes. We agreed to try to locate him, but I haven't had any luck. I think now I know why," as she gestured to the table, where the name 'David Moller' had been spelled out with the slips of paper, leaving an 'T', 'M', 'R' and two 'O's.

"What about the extra letters?" Harry asked, though he suspected Michelle was on to something. "I can't think of a middle name that would use just those letters."

"He included the words 'I am' in his anagram," Peter pointed out. "There could be other words included in this one to make it work."

"Or," Chad said suddenly. When everyone looked at him, he clarified, "the anagram, it could be 'or David something Moller'.

"Tom," Connor added thoughtfully. "'Or David Tom Moller' is a perfect anagram for 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'."

"That uses 'Tom' in both names," Heather pointed out. "Would he do that?"

Michelle frowned thoughtfully. "There's only so many possible names you can come up with using those letters. It could just be a coincidence, but…" she shook her head doubtfully.

"That would be a very large coincidence," Peter concluded. "Especially given that he was reported to be one of the driving forces behind the more extremist actions of the group."

Connor scratched his head. "So what, Riddle was playing both sides? Lord Voldemort is a champion of the purebloods, while David Möller is fighting for muggleborn rights?"

Dan, who had remained silent since Heather's announcement, finally spoke. "That makes sense. He needed conflict in order to push people to join him in his crusade. If things were going well, there would be no need for a champion, as you put it. This way, he could play both sides off each other, while portraying the ministry as incompetent and unable to stop the violence. Both sides think of themselves as the victims, and fight back, just escalating the situation."

"So, he started this conflict, and when it was clear that the Pureblood agenda had more support, cut his losses with the muggleborn?" Harry asked.

"I imagine that he always intended to side with the purebloods," Michelle said. "A dictator's position is never secure until they've managed to train the rising generation to follow them – the Hitler Youth program being an excellent example. That wouldn't be possible if his power base came from the muggleborn. Almost by definition, they know nothing about the magical world until they're ten or eleven. Compare that to the pureblood children who would be taught from a young age to follow Voldemort." She paused for a moment. "Most of Riddle's more ardent followers were actually from the generation after him. People like Bellatrix Lestrange supported him whole-heartedly because they grew up hearing about the champion who defended purebloods from the evil mudbloods."

"It occurs to me that Voldemort isn't the only one who has been successful at getting children to follow him into war," Peter added after a moment's thought. "From what we can tell, most of the members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix had only been out of Hogwarts for a few years."

"A very good point," Michelle agreed. "His position as Headmaster results in the students spending seven years during one of the most formative periods of their lives essentially being told that Albus Dumbledore is the ultimate authority they should respect. And given that many students in Hogwarts go on to hold important positions in the government or society as a whole, that respect and awe they were trained to feel for him gives him a very large amount of influence. I imagine that he makes use of it to sidestep inconvenient laws or regulations with surprising regularity. As we've seen already," she added, glancing over at Harry, who scowled at the reminder of the 'apprenticeship' Dumbledore had illegally forced upon him.

_Now that I've taken care of Fudge and his cronies, I'm going to have to do something about that._

Apparently, he wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. "So, what is our plan for Dumbledore now?" Chad asked. "Do we still view him as an enemy?"

"Well, he's certainly not an ally," Harry replied. "If he leaves me along, I won't go after him, but based on everything he's done up to now, I don't think that's very likely."

Tonks frowned. "That reminds me of something else I heard. I don't have any details, but some of the other Aurors have been talking. Apparently, Dumbledore had some evidence of additional crimes that he turned over. From what I can tell, it sounds like he's claiming he was already investigating the corruption, but wanted to have more proof before making any accusations."

Peter grimaced. "That's… inconvenient. One of the best things we had going for us was pointing out that he was negligent in his duties as Chief Warlock, allowing such an appalling level of corruption to flourish right under his nose. If he's able to claim that he was working on his own investigation, he'll likely be able to swing a large number of people back on to his side."

"The Wizengamot will be issuing a statement to the Daily Prophet in the next few days regarding the trials for Malfoy and the others," Tonks added. "I wouldn't be surprised if they include something about Dumbledore's supposed investigations. Anything to make them look better," she finished cynically.

The discussion continued for quite some time, but ultimately, nothing was decided. They would just have to wait and see.

* * *

As the meeting finished and everyone helped to clear up the table, Malcolm Prewett pulled Harry aside.

"We had a visitor at the Foundation today," the red-haired man said. "A blonde girl about your age gave me this." He handed Harry a letter with the name Andrus Masters written on the front.

"That's the name I used at the Foundation event." Harry peered at the letter suspiciously.

"And she knows that you're really Harry Potter," Malcolm added, to Harry's shock. "She wasn't subtle about that at all, though thankfully she didn't say anything when others were around."

Frowning, Harry opened the letter.

_Potter,_

_Since I have no idea when you intend to come back to Hogwarts, I thought this would be the best way to get in touch with you._

_There are a few matters that my father and I would like to discuss with you that I think could be beneficial for us both, and while it would be an exaggeration to say that time is of the essence, I do believe that the sooner we could meet, the better. I can arrange to leave school whenever, if you will not be returning to Hogwarts in the near future. _

_If you are interested, please owl me, and we can arrange a time to meet. Just be sure to not use your incredibly distinctive owl._

_DG_


	31. Chapter 30: Epiphanies

.

Chapter 30: Epiphanies

Harry set the quill down on the desk and took the opportunity to read the brief letter.

_Greengrass,_

_I'm not certain when I'll be returning. If you would still like to meet, I would be available at 1:00 on Monday the 25__th__ at the Foundation for the Future. If this is, for whatever reason, unacceptable, please let me know. Otherwise, I will plan on seeing you and your father at that time._

_H_

He frowned. It covered the essentials, but it seemed kind of… cold. Of course, the same could be said for her letter to him. It wasn't like they were friends, after all.

With a mental shrug, he slipped the letter into an envelope and addressed it to his Slytherin informant, then placed the letter in the box for outgoing mail. Each day after work, someone in the office (usually Peter) dropped the contents of the box off at the owl office in Diagon, which meant Daphne would likely receive it the next morning. _That should give her enough time to coordinate with her father._ He was very curious as to what the Greengrass patriarch might want with him but knew that idle speculation was pointless. He'd just have to wait.

With that issue dealt with, he turned his mind back to something that had been weighing on his thoughts for several days now. Unfortunately, he still didn't have any ideas that would help him make sense of the scattered memory. _What I need is a different perspective_, he realized as he made his way down the hall. Knocking on the door, he opened it and looked inside.

"Michelle, are you busy?" he asked.

The history expert looked up from the large stack of documents she was going through. "Not at all," she replied as she closed the top folder. "I was actually just about to leave to go see Connor's demonstration of his _incredible new discovery_," she said, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Is that sarcasm I hear?" Harry asked with a smile as he stepped into the office and shut the door.

Michelle laughed. "I love my husband, but he can get a little overexcited sometimes," she replied with a fond smile. "You giving him an excuse to play around with wards all day is like telling a five-year-old that his job is to try every candy in the store to see which tastes the best."

Harry had to admit, from what he had seen, the comparison was well-deserved.

"But that's not what you wanted to talk about," Michelle said, changing the subject. "Is this something you want to keep private, or could we talk while walking to the workshop?"

"No, I don't mind if we talk on the way," Harry replied, opening the door behind him as he tried to figure out how to begin the conversation. "This is going to sound kind of weird, but… have you come across any reports of Riddle deliberately letting people go unharmed?"

Michelle frowned in confusion. "I assume you mean at actual death eater attacks?" At Harry's nod, she looked off into the distance, brow furrowed in thought. "He frequently left people alive to report what had happened, but they were almost always maimed somehow."

"But telling someone to just leave…" Harry pressed.

"I'm not aware of any instances of something like that happening," Michelle replied, once more looking at him, a curious expression on her face. "What prompted this?"

Fortunately, they had arrived at the large, recently-installed vanishing cabinet that connected the Magical Solutions office to the temporary housing they had stayed in while the Ministry was hunting them, which gave Harry a few seconds to think about his response. "When the Ministry sent the dementors after me, I heard… I think I heard my mum and Riddle. My mum was begging, pleading for him to spare me, and Riddle kept ordering her to stand aside." Judging by the frown on Michelle's face, she was just as confused by that as he was.

"He was trying to get her to _stand aside_?" the shocked woman repeated as they stepped inside the elevator-sized transporter. "Is there any possibility you were misunderstanding it?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't remember the exact words, but that was pretty clear." There was a soft buzzing sound lasting just a few seconds, then they exited the cabinet to see the main room in the housing unit at the site that would hopefully one day be Britain's second all-magical community.

"Dementors are said to force people to relive their worst memories, but memories, as we know, can be faulty," she said thoughtfully. "Are you sure the memory is accurate?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted with a sigh as the pair exited the building and began walking toward the large, red prefabricated metal building Connor used as a workshop. "It just… it felt real, like that's what actually happened, but I have no way of knowing for sure. I remember when I was younger, and I really strained to remember what had happened to my parents, I could hear a high-pitched laugh and a flash of green, but nothing else. I certainly don't remember ever hearing my mum's voice before."

"Your parents had fought Riddle a few times before, hadn't they?" Michelle asked after a few moments of thought.

"Two, or maybe three times, they fought him while responding to attacks with Dumbledore's order," Harry replied, trying to remember what he had read.

"And was there any indication that he was willing to spare them then?" she continued.

Harry shrugged. "Not that I remember, but all I know is what I've read in my mum's diary."

Michelle was silent for a few seconds. "Would it be alright if I were to read your mother's diary? I don't mean to intrude on anything private, but it might help shed some light on that, and since I can reference reports or other accounts of the events she references, I may be able to piece together some things that you would miss."

"That's fine," Harry replied. "I wouldn't be comfortable with the diary being released publicly, but I have no problem with you reading it. I just hope we can figure out why he would do that. Or, maybe I'm just going crazy," the teen admitted with a sigh as he held the door open and gestured politely for Michelle to enter first.

"What are we trying to figure out?" Harry and Michelle turned to see Chad looking at them.

"Why Riddle gave my mum a chance to leave rather than just killing her," Harry said, trying to keep his voice casual.

The flabbergasted look on Chad's face was amusing, but before the American could say anything, Connor stepped out of his cluttered office, a large grin on his face.

"I'll explain more later," Michelle whispered to Chad.

Behind them, the door opened once more, and Harry turned to see Peter and Mac enter, with Dan and Malcolm not far behind.

"Thank you all for coming. Today is an historical day, and you will be the first people to see something that will change warding as we know it," the Scotsman promised grandiosely, his face split in a proud grin.

Harry and Michelle shared an amused look.

"Now, to begin, I need to explain very briefly about wards. I know that this may be a review for some of you, but I hope that you will bear with me," Connor said, clearing his throat.

"The purpose of wards is to collect the ambient magical energy that is all around us and use it, primarily for defense. Warding goes back more than a thousand years, but the first attempt to study it from a methodical, almost scientific perspective began in 1793, when a muggleborn named Aldrich MacDonald set out to determine exactly what factors determine the strength of a given ward. It had been known for centuries even before that wards generally increased in strength the longer they were in place, and that some areas tended to have stronger wards than others. MacDonald's goal was to understand why, exactly, that was the case."

Connor led them over to a small table in the center of the room. "Now, MacDonald came from a wealthy family that owned a significant parcel of land, which was used primarily for farming," the Scotsman continued.

"So, what you're saying is, Old MacDonald had a farm," Chad muttered softly, causing Peter to hastily turn his laugh into a cough.

If Connor heard the American's remark, he gave no indication. "MacDonald set up a large number of small wards on his property. These were what are called 'solid-built' wards, which are quite rare these days because they don't use the energy as efficiently. While air can travel through them freely, they stop any solids or liquids that come in contact with the barrier. MacDonald then tested how strong these wards were by placing weights on the top of the ward and timing how long it could hold the weight, keeping records of how long each ward had been left to 'charge'. He eventually discovered that he could predict with a great degree of accuracy how strong a ward would be based on how long it had been in place. He then expanded his experiments to begin testing other places as well, attempting to determine which parts of Britain have the strongest concentration of ambient magical energy. In the end, MacDonald ended up devoting nearly five decades to the study of wards, including the first known attempt to map out the ley lines in magical Britain."

"I don't want to bore you with all the details, but what MacDonald discovered is that a ward has what he described as a theoretical maximum charge, which is dependent on the masses and types of stones used in the ward. In a normal area of Britain that is not close to a ley line, the stones will accumulate approximately six percent of that maximum charge per year."

"So, it would take about sixteen years to get up to full charge?" Harry asked.

"No, sorry, I didn't explain that correctly," Connor clarified. "It will charge six percent of the difference between its current charge and the theoretical maximum. Imagine that we were, instead, in an area that will charge ten percent per year. So, the first year, it charges ten percent. The second year, it charges ten percent of the remaining ninety percent, or in other words, only nine percent. The third year, it charges ten percent of the remaining eighty-one percent, and so on. You'll never actually get to the theoretical maximum, which is why it is called 'theoretical'. Now, a team in Canada a few decades ago proved that the theoretical maximum will actually increase over time as the ward stone becomes more attuned to the natural magical energy, but that's a very small increase that is really only noticeable in very old wards."

"Just for comparison, what's the highest it gets up to?" Dan asked curiously.

"The highest known area in Britain is the Hogwarts-Hogsmeade area, charging about sixteen percent per year. There are a few areas that are at about twelve or thirteen percent, such as Coldwell Valley in the Cotswolds, which is why a number of wealthy families like the Malfoys or the Greengrasses have made their homes there," Connor replied, before gesturing to a device on the table with a broad, hexagonal base supporting a slowly turning disc. "Now, with some help from Chad, I created this device. It can absorb ambient magical energy from the thaumasphere, but rather than storing it, it uses it to turn the disc at the top. By measuring how rapidly the disc turns, I can determine the rotational kinetic energy, which allows me to assess how much ambient magic there is in the area. I've tested it in a number of places throughout Britain, and the output matches what MacDonald originally discovered."

"Is that the new discovery?" Malcolm asked. "I can see how that would be useful."

"Oh, no," Connor replied dismissively, shaking his head. "This is just the tool that I used to prove my theory correct. No, the discovery came when I developed a hypothesis to explain a long-standing question the wizarding world has had for quite some time. That question is, why is expanded space so unhealthy for wizards to live in for long periods of time."

At this, Harry perked up a little bit. He had, after all, wondered the same thing when Mister Weasley first showed him the expanded boot in the Weasley family car.

"My hypothesis was that the amount of magical energy in a given region of space remains constant even if that space has been magically expanded," the Scotsman said, gesturing with his finger as though pointing at them. "So, if you expand space, you end up with an artificially low concentration of magic, which is unhealthy for magical beings."

"So, it's kind of like the magical equivalent of air temperature?" Chad inquired.

"Exactly," Connor replied triumphantly. "To prove that, I put a space expansion charm on the room over here," he said, picking up the measuring device and leading them through a door on one side. "Space in here has been expanded ten times," he explained as he set the device on the ground. "And, as you can see, the device is spinning noticeably more slowly. In fact, it's going at about one third of the speed as it was out there."

"Shouldn't it be one tenth?" Michelle asked.

"Kinetic rotational energy is proportional to the square of the speed with which the object is rotating," Connor explained. "And the square root of ten is just a little more than three, which is why it's moving at about a third of the speed as it would normally."

"So, if by expanding the room, you reduce the concentration of magical energy, does that mean that by shrinking the room, you could increase it?" Dan asked.

"Precisely," Connor said as he picked up the measuring device and let them back into the main room, then to another side room. "As you can see, I have used a space contraction charm here, and the result is a corresponding increase in the amount of magical energy the device can collect."

Indeed, the device was spinning much faster now than it had been out in the unaltered room.

"Increasing the 'temperature' if you will. Like a magical… oven," Peter said understandingly.

"Forget an oven," Chad scoffed. "It's more like a blast furnace. You have three dimensions to work with. Compress each one to one twentieth of the regular size and you've increased the magical 'temperature' by a factor of 8,000."

Harry looked over at Connor. "Is that actually possible?"

The warding expert nodded. "Depending on the size of the building we use and the size of the ward stones we're charging, yes. All the evidence I have says that it should work. We'll need to test it to be certain, but I'm confident that the results will be in line with what we predicted."

"So, using this method, you can make incredibly strong wards in a very short length of time," Mac summarized, his eyes gleaming as he seemed to consider the possibilities.

"There are two major limiting factors in the strength of wards," Connor stated. "The first is the limit on how many stones you can use and how large they can be, which is a result of the expense and difficulty in carving runes into a high-quality stone like granite, which is the most commonly used in Britain. That's not an issue for us, because, as we've demonstrated with the vanishing cabinets, we can use computer-controlled machinery to carve the runes for us."

"And the second limiting factor is the ambient magical energy, which you just proved is no longer as much of a limit as people think," Harry realized.

"Exactly," Connor agreed. "In just one day in one of these furnaces, a ward stone could gather as much energy as it would in a decade or more at Hogwarts."

"You suggested the possibility of using one large ward scheme to cover the entire village when you first proposed we start our own community," Peter said thoughtfully. "I'm guessing that this discovery means it could actually work?"

"There are a few more things I would like to experiment with before I begin laying down the actual wards," Connor cautioned. "For example, open transmission… that is to say, linking ward stones just through the air without any sort of magical material to connect them, does tend to lose significant levels of energy at larger distances. There are some ways around that, but they aren't as common anymore. I'd like to look at some methods that were used historically and see if I can come up with a good method of linking the stones with minimal energy loss."

"So, how would the wards work?" Mac wondered. "Are you planning to use these solid-built wards you mentioned earlier?"

"Like a big bubble, nobody goes through," Connor replied, nodding. "We'd have a heavily defended passage through the wards people could use to walk in or out, but most of the traffic would be done using vanishing cabinets. We'd need to work together to design an effective system to get people through quickly while still providing the necessary security."

"If we had a travel facility off site so people could get there by floo, apparition, portkey or any other means, then once they've passed through security, they could use some sort of vanishing cabinet based transport to get into the actual village," Mac mused.

"And there would be no other way in or out?" Peter inquired.

"If DragonFire is going to be based inside these wards, we would need the ability to at least portkey out," Mac warned.

"Or a separate transport system to a dedicated offsite base," Dan suggested.

"We can figure that out later," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "For now, it's lunchtime, and I'd say that our resident warding expert gets to choose what we have, as a reward for a discovery that will change warding as we know it. My treat," he added, prompting some nods of thanks and a loud 'Sweet' from Chad.

* * *

After a filling meal at a delicious Indian restaurant in the outskirts of London, the team returned to the Magical Solutions office and went their separate ways to resume work on their individual projects. Hary was not surprised to see Connor make a beeline for the transporter back to the site for their village.

Harry followed behind. "Hey, Connor, can I talk with you for a minute," Harry requested before the man disappeared out of the housing facility.

"Of course," he said, turning to look, surprised, at the teen.

Harry gestured down the hall, and the two began to walk toward Harry's room. "Have you ever heard of the Merlinian Discourses?" the Gryffindor asked.

"No," Connor replied, his voice holding a note of curiosity.

"It's a book, purportedly compiled from things Merlin taught during his life." Harry thought for a moment. "I don't want to prejudice you by telling you my thoughts on it, but I would be interested to hear what you think of it," Harry said as he entered the room and retrieved the copy of the book Luna had given him.

"That sounds… intriguing," Connor said absentmindedly as he studied the well-worn cover.

"There's no rush, so take your time reading it, but let's just say I think you might find some things in here that sound familiar," Harry replied.

* * *

"I don't have anything to report on my assignments yet," Chad declared at the office meeting that evening, "but I did have a thought about that memory you got from the dementors about Riddle's attack on you." His face shone with excitement.

"I had a thought as well," Michelle added. "I'm curious to see if we came up with the same idea."

Harry looked around the room. "Does anyone have any more pressing matters?" he asked. Everyone shook their heads. "Then, sure, let's hear it," he said, glancing around the room. "Just to explain, when I was attacked by the dementors, I think they… shook loose a memory from when Riddle killed my parents. I heard my mother begging for my life, and Riddle telling her to stand aside. That seemed very unusual for a mass-murdering terrorist, so on the way to Connor's demonstration today I asked Michelle and Chad if they had any thoughts about it. Chad, what's your idea?"

"What do Greek mythology, the Bible, and the movie Willow all have in common?" the American asked enthusiastically.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at him, confused. "The movie Willow?" Tonks repeated dumbly.

Chad nodded. "The answer is, they all have an immensely powerful person going out of their way to kill a baby." He grinned. "Because of a prophecy," the man finished triumphantly.

Michelle nodded in satisfaction. "That was my thought as well."

Malcolm sat up a little straighter, looking at the speakers intently.

"A prophecy?" Harry asked.

"Everyone assumes that Riddle went after your parents because they were a thorn in his side, or he was hoping to recruit them, or something like that. But if that memory is correct, then your parents weren't the target," Chad explained. "You were. If he wanted to kill your dad, he wouldn't have bothered with you, he would have left when your dad was dead. Clearly, your mom wasn't the target either."

"Perhaps we could be a little more sensitive when talking about Harry's parents being cruelly murdered," Peter suggested.

"It's fine," Harry replied. "If we're going to discuss it, I don't want people to have to tiptoe around the issue. And I do want to understand what happened and, more importantly, why."

"Figuring out the 'why' is going to be more difficult," Michelle cautioned, "but the more we know about the who, what and when, the better our guesses will be."

Harry nodded. "I know. So, you both think there was a prophecy?"

"Specifically, a prophecy that you would be the one to defeat Riddle," Chad explained.

"Actually, I doubt that the prophecy identified you individually," Michelle interjected. "Your mother mentioned in her diary that the Longbottoms went into hiding, probably at about the same time that your family did."

"Neville's only a day older than I am," Harry commented, leaning back in his chair as he thought.

"Exactly. If the prophecy identified the time frame that the person who would defeat Riddle was born, that would explain why both families had to go into hiding, instead of just your family."

"Or instead of a time frame, it could have been some sort of sign," Tonks remarked. "Were there any unusual astronomical events or anything like that at the end of July in 1980?"

"There's always something you could point to as a 'sign'," Peter replied. "Without knowing the exact words of the prophecy, we can't make any guesses."

"We don't even know that there is a prophecy," Dan warned. "I admit, it seems like a valid theory, but we shouldn't get too committed to the idea without any proof."

"I have no intention of claiming to be some sort of prophesied defender of magical Britain," Harry agreed. "But still, I'd like to hear your thoughts," he said, looking back at Chad and Michelle.

"I brought up the movie Willow for a reason," Chad said. "In it, the prophecy says that the baby… I can't remember her name," he commented, frowning.

"Willow?" Tonks suggested drily.

"No, Willow's the midget that…" the American shook his head. "Nevermind. What I was saying is that the baby, despite being prophesied to bring about the downfall of the evil sorceress-queen, doesn't actually do anything. Instead, when the queen captures the baby, everyone is committed to saving her, so they launch a desperate assault on the castle and mange to defeat the evil army."

"Much like Harry might not have been responsible for Riddle's downfall," Peter said, nodding understandingly. "It could have been something Lily did, and Harry was mistakenly given the credit."

"Yeah," Chad agreed, pointing at the other man, then shrugged. "I don't really have any other thoughts. Without knowing what the prophecy said, or, as Dan pointed out, if there really is one in the first place, I'm not sure what else we can deduce."

"I agree, we're very limited without knowing exactly what the supposed prophecy says," Michelle concurred, "but there's another aspect we haven't addressed yet that I think warrants some discussion. Who gave the prophecy, or perhaps the better question is, who _received_ the prophecy and when, and how did each side learn about it?"

"Aren't we theorizing that Riddle had access to some sort of dark seer or something?" Malcolm asked. "That's how he got the prophecy, and why he went after Harry."

"That's certainly one possibility, but not the only one," the historian replied. "You see, somehow, Dumbledore knew that Riddle was targeting the two boys. So, if Riddle received the prophecy, Dumbledore must have been warned by a spy. Another possibility is that _Dumbledore_ received the prophecy, and Riddle learned of it through a spy." She paused for a moment. "It's also possible that it was a third party that received the prophecy, and both sides learned about it second-hand, though I'm not certain who that third party could be."

"The Ministry?" Harry suggested.

"No, otherwise everyone would know by now," Mac said. "The Ministry leaks information like a sieve. They can't keep secrets like that."

"The Department of Mysteries might," Tonks pointed out. "Rumor has it they collect prophecies, and we know that there was at least one spy there. Perhaps Rookwood told Riddle, and someone else told Dumbledore."

"Both sides had at least one spy in the enemy's camp," Dan said. "According to Dumbledore, Snape was his spy in Riddle's ranks, while we know that Pettigrew was Riddle's spy in the Order of the Phoenix."

"I don't think that Pettigrew revealed the prophecy to Riddle," Peter said with a frown. "When Harry and I captured him, we questioned him for an hour under veritaserum and nothing he said even hinted at a prophecy. Granted, our questions weren't focused on that, but we did ask about his role in the Potters' deaths. If he had been responsible for telling Riddle about the prophecy that was the ultimate motive for the attack, I would expect that Pettigrew would have said something about it."

"Any chance it's an old prophecy?" Malcolm asked. "Some families keep records of predictions made by seers to be passed on to future generations."

Michelle frowned thoughtfully. "I'd be surprised, but I suppose it's possible. As a supposed muggleborn, Riddle wouldn't have had access to any family records, and there's no indication that he ever went looking for his family. His last surviving relative, his uncle, was in Azkaban before Riddle was out of Hogwarts, so I doubt that it could be a foretelling that was handed down by the House of Gaunt." She made a quiet 'hmm' sound as she pondered the idea. "Most prophecies that have been publicly revealed are quite vague and only make sense after the fact, but there could be something that led one or both sides to believe a certain prediction was about to come to pass. Or perhaps one side or the other found a lost book of prophecy whose predictions were more... transparent."

"A lost prophecy seems like a bit of a stretch," Dan countered skeptically.

"I agree, it seems unlikely, but it is a possibility we should consider. There are some reasonably reliable records discussing books of prophecy that were highly acclaimed in their day, but have since been lost," Michelle replied evenly. "The Book of Three being the best example I can think of right off the top of my head. More than one ancient scholar claimed that it foretold the end of the world with incredible clarity. Of course, we have no way of knowing if it was accurate," she finished with a frown.

"Would it be possible for Riddle to have found something like that?" Malcolm asked.

To this, Michelle could only shrug. "Anything is possible. But as I said, while we can't rule it out, it seems unlikely. If anyone does have a copy of forgotten predictions made by some ancient seer, they're obviously not saying anything about it."

"Well, we're not going to figure anything else out tonight without more information," Harry decided. "So, let's not worry about it for now. Michelle, I would like you to investigate divination in general a little more, but it's a low priority. Focus on your normal stuff first, but if you have time between projects, you could use that to fill up some time."

"Since you're not busy enough getting the Foundation's tutoring system set up," Peter said with a smile, prompting a wave of chuckles.

"You could do some research, too," Michelle pointed out, fixing Harry with a faux-stern look. "After all, you're the one taking a divination class."

Harry scoffed. "There'll be ice-skating in hell the day Trelawney teaches us something worthwhile. To be honest, I have a hard time taking the whole subject seriously with how she goes about it."

Malcolm frowned thoughtfully. "Your teacher's name is… Trelawney?" he asked, sounding almost suspicious.

Harry looked at the man quizzically, but Malcolm seemed lost in thought.

"Just because the local weatherman isn't very good at his job doesn't mean the entire field of meteorology is a sham," Peter said, drawing Harry's attention once more. "And it's not a question of whether or not this hypothetical prophecy is true, but whether or not Riddle believes it to be true. While I'm not a big supporter of divination either, I have to admit, a prophecy does seem like a good explanation for what you remember from when your parents were killed."

"If that memory is even correct," Harry said, to which Peter nodded as though conceding the point.

"Y'know, Michelle's comment made me realize something," Malcolm interjected hesitantly. "Dumbledore specifically required Harry to take Divination. We assumed his motive was to keep Harry from taking a more useful class like Arithmancy or Runes. But what if the real motive had something to do with this theoretical prophecy?" All eyes turned to stare at the red-haired man.

"To teach me about divination?" Harry asked skeptically. "That sure didn't work out."

"Or to increase your exposure to someone who supposedly has gifts in divination," Malcolm replied. "There was a famous seer a little over a century ago named Cassandra Trelawney that foretold a potential disaster for House Prewett. My ancestors were able to avoid most of the damage thanks to her." He paused for a moment. "Out of curiosity, do we know when Trelawney was hired?"

Peter thought for a moment before responding. "It must have been after I graduated - that was in 1980 - but I remember hearing rumors that Dumbledore was planning on removing Divination from the Hogwarts curriculum after Madam Bedisa retired."

"Dumbledore was planning on eliminating Divination class altogether, but instead, ended up hiring this Professor Trelawney?" Malcolm asked, leaning forward intently.

"That's what I heard," Peter replied slowly, brow furrowed in thought.

"I've got dossiers on all the teachers at Hogwarts in my office. I'll check," Michelle said as she stood and darted out of the room.

Harry watched her go, somewhat confused about this line of inquiry. Finally, he began to understand what Malcolm was implying. "You're not seriously suggesting what I think you're suggesting," Harry said, looking back and forth between Malcolm and Peter. Neither man had time to reply.

"Sybill Trelawney was hired in 1980," Michelle announced as she reentered the conference room. "While she didn't start teaching until that autumn, her contract of employment was dated May 12, 1980."

"If we assume that it was a new prophecy, it would presumably have been given around the time Harry was conceived, at the earliest," Malcolm mused. "That timeline certainly fits."

"No way," Harry replied instantly, shaking his head emphatically. "This is crazy. There is no way that Trelawney gave a real prophecy."

"It could be a fake prediction that Riddle believed, for some reason," Peter pointed out. "We don't know anything right now. But it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to talk to her when you get back to Hogwarts."

Still shaking his head in disbelief, Harry brought the meeting to a close. _They're just grasping at straws,_ he insisted. _A fraud like Trelawney couldn't have really given a prophecy. Right?_

It was a thought that Harry was still contemplating many hours later.


	32. Chapter 31: A New Confederate

Chapter 31: A New Confederate

Over the months of working closely together, the members of Harry's team had become close friends. As such, it was not uncommon for many of them to spend time together on Friday nights to relax and celebrate another week of work done. Harry obviously couldn't come during the school year, and he hadn't been able to leave the compound while being hunted by the ministry, so this would be the first time he was able to join the party.

"Tonks sent a message saying she'll be late," Chad informed the others as he emerged from his office. "She said to just go without her, since she's not sure how long it'll take her to finish."

"Okay, well, let's go," Harry replied.

"Someone's excited," Heather said teasingly.

"I've never been bowling before," the teen admitted. "It sounds fun."

Unfortunately, that excitement didn't last long once they actually started.

"Okay, why did I think this was a good idea?" Harry asked with a sigh as his ball rolled into the gutter yet again.

"I think you're a little confused, Harry," a smirking Chad advised from the next lane over. "_Golf_ is the game where you're trying to get a low score. You're supposed to aim for the pins, not the gutter."

Always aware of the need to demonstrate maturity when interacting with his employees, Harry took care to respond appropriately. "Shut up," he said with a glare, causing the American to laugh.

After an hour of bowling, they picked up some pizzas and returned to the office to eat. They had nearly finished when Tonks finally arrived, looking like she was ready to collapse.

"Today was Bones's first day as interim Minister, and she's got us working our butts off," the metamorph groused as she grabbed the last slice of chicken bacon. "I mean, it's important stuff and all, but I've been going nose to the grindstone since seven this morning. It doesn't help that we're short-handed until they finish investigating anyone implicated in any of the corruption – which is at least half of the force."

"What sort of things does she have you working on?" Peter asked.

"Me, personally? I'm with a few Junior Aurors down in the records room, trying to figure out if anyone else in Azkaban was denied a trial." Tonks groaned. "It's a mess down there, and it certainly doesn't help that Barty Crouch killed himself."

Harry thought he recognized the name. "That was the former head of the DMLE, right?"

"Yep, he was head at the end of the war, but he was kicked over to International Cooperation when his son was caught attacking the Longbottoms. Since he was the one that oversaw all of the trials, he should know if there was anyone else chucked in Azkaban without a chance to defend themselves like Sirius, but we obviously can't ask him anymore, so we're doing things the hard way."

"Has there been any news regarding the trials for everyone arrested because of the Foundation?" Malcolm asked.

Tonks nodded. "Currently scheduled to begin the week after next, from what I've heard. I don't know an exact date, however."

"And what about Narcissa Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson?" Harry asked intently. "Are they really going to get away with it?"

"I was able to get a look at Narcissa's file while I was in the records room, and from what I saw, it seems like she genuinely didn't know what Lucius was up to and has no desire to help Riddle or any of her husband's associates," Tonks replied with a frown. "They had experienced Aurors, Shacklebolt and the older Proudfoot, carrying out the questioning, so I have no doubt that she was genuinely under the influence of the veritaserum. She testified that she had no desire to get revenge for what happened to her husband, or to break any laws. She's going to do her best to convince Draco of the same thing, though she did have to admit that she wasn't confident that he would follow her advice."

The idea that Draco would want revenge came as no surprise to Harry. He had already begun considering options for how to deal with the boy. It irked him that Narcissa Malfoy would suffer no legal punishment, but if she genuinely had no intention of causing any problems for him…

"And Parkinson?" Harry asked.

Here, Tonks winced. "Dumbledore decided not to press charges. Supposedly, under the terms of the apprenticeship, he has the right to make those sorts of decisions."

"Is that true?" Malcolm asked skeptically.

Tonks shrugged, and everyone looked over to Peter, who hastily swallowed the beer he was drinking. "The apprenticeship gives Dumbledore a wide range of legal authority over Harry, but I haven't been able to get a definitive list of what all it encompasses," the blond man explained. "My guess is that the terms set by the Ministry are deliberately vague and it would, in normal situations, be left to the master and apprentice to determine the exact duties and obligations of each party, usually through some sort of a contract. Since that didn't happen here…" he trailed off with a sigh. "Needless to say, no one I've talked to has made any effort to clarify things, and it doesn't help that I've been trying to be circumspect about the whole issue."

"Well, I'll be appealing to the Wizengamot at the first opportunity, so hopefully it will be a moot point," Harry said.

Tonks winced again. "That's… not going to be for a while. For the time being, the Wizengamot is no longer accepting petitions to hear private concerns, unless the petitioner can demonstrate that the issue is time sensitive."

To say that everyone was shocked by this development was an understatement.

"Can they even do that?" Dan asked, aghast.

"Apparently so," Tonks replied. "I don't know how long that's going to last, but that is what I heard."

"Harry has to appeal to the Wizengamot for the fiscal retribution to be approved, correct?" Peter asked, looking at Dan. The business expert nodded. "Is there some sort of statute of limitations on when that appeal must take place?"

"I don't know," Dan admitted. "I'll look into it. It's certainly possible."

"Could the Wizengamot's goal be to prevent Harry from getting the retribution approved?" Malcolm wondered.

"That wouldn't surprise me in the least," Dan replied darkly. "We're talking about millions of galleons, probably more than the annual wage of every employee in Magical Britain combined. That's bound to have an impact on the economy. It's understandable that the Wizengamot would like to avoid that if possible."

"Still, if there is a limit that Harry has to get it approved by, that means that the injunction against private concerns wouldn't apply, since it's time sensitive, right?" Heather asked, glancing between her husband and Dan.

"That should be true," Peter replied slowly, frowning in thought.

"My guess is they're hoping that Harry doesn't know about it," Chad offered. "Even though we specifically asked that question, there was nothing about the retribution in the Daily Prophet. Considering that Malfoy admitted he would be willing to kill Harry over it, that seems like something that should have been mentioned." He frowned. "In fact, I'm not even sure that we mentioned that in _Veritas_. I'll make sure that we have an article about that sometime in the next week or so."

"Any other news from the Ministry?" Peter asked, looking back at Tonks.

"Dawlish is hanging onto his position by a thread," the pink-haired woman replied, making no effort to hide the glee in her voice. "He's working on a case right now, and it sounds like if he screws up in any way, he'll be fired."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer criminal," Harry scoffed.

"There's talk about seizing the shares of the Prophet owned by Malfoy and his cronies and selling the shares at auction to prevent anyone from exerting that level of control over the news again."

"That would be nice," Malcolm said enthusiastically.

"Yes, as it relates to the Prophet, that's good, but it sets a very dangerous precedent," Dan countered. "What happens if they decide that ownership of _Veritas_ needs to be broken up in the same way? We've also considered starting to produce magical television shows, including news reports. If magivision gets popular, there's no reason the Wizengamot couldn't require ownership of that to be broken up as well."

It was a rather disturbing note to end the conversation on, but since Tonks had no more inside information to share, that thought was on everyone's mind as they left.

* * *

Harry, Peter and Heather returned to the housing complex. The Wilsons had found a home they liked and made an offer but wouldn't be able to move in for several more weeks. Heather went to check on the boys while Peter and Harry went to the dining room.

"I didn't want to ask you about it in front of the group, but I think it might help to talk about it. So, how do you feel about Parkinson not being prosecuted for what she did?" Peter inquired.

"I'm angry and frustrated," Harry admitted.

"Angry and frustrated enough that Justice will be making another appearance?" To Harry's surprise, the question was asked without any note of accusation.

"No," the teen replied immediately. "Justice was a mistake. I was angry and I lashed out." Harry shook his head sadly. "And other people paid the price," he finished quietly.

Peter made no comment.

"I just… I can't accept that people do bad things… commit crimes and hurt others, and then they get away with it. I tried everything I could to ensure that Malfoy and his gang were punished, but Dumbledore and Snape were protecting them. So I did the only thing I could think of to teach them a lesson."

"So, how is the situation with Pansy any different?"

"Well, for starters, I know better now. I'm not just going to let her get away with it, but I'm not going to _torture_ her." Harry rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I don't know what I'm going to do, though," he sighed. "It doesn't sound like I've got any options for getting her legally punished and Dumbledore's obviously not going to do anything at school. So, what else is there?"

Peter had no reply.

* * *

Harry was still thinking about the situation with Pansy over the weekend, but when Monday rolled around, he had something else to focus on. _Great, I stop thinking about one Slytherin girl in my year and start focusing on another, _he thought with a mental chuckle as he set the dossier on Adrian Greengrass that Peter and Dan had prepared for him down on the desk. For today, he was borrowing Dan's office in the Foundation for the Future. _I wonder what the Greengrasses will make of that. By using 'Victor Grey's' office, I'm basically admitting that I'm the one behind the whole thing._

He glanced at his watch. _Fifteen minutes. Guess I'd better get ready._ He quickly downed a calming draught, then put the dossier in one of the drawers and threw away the trash from his lunch. Still, that left several more minutes until his guests arrived. Thanks to the potion, he was able to wait patiently at his desk rather than pacing nervously around the room, but he still found himself wondering what Daphne Greengrass and her father wanted to discuss with him.

Fortunately, he didn't have long to wait. According to the clock on the wall, there were still two minutes to go when a knock sounded on the door, and Harry, in his guise as Andrus Masters, opened it to see one of the guards, followed closely by two people, one of whom was very familiar.

"Thank you," he said politely, nodding to the guard, before turning his attention to his guests. "Mister Greengrass, Miss Greengrass, thank you for coming. Please, come in."

As the door shut, Harry took a moment to activate the built-in privacy charms, then deactivated his disguise. "Mister Greengrass, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, holding out a hand to the fair-haired man.

"The pleasure is mine," the man replied, taking his hand in a firm shake. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."

"And Miss Greengrass, it's a pleasure to see you again," Harry continued.

"And you as well," the beautiful girl responded with a smile as Harry pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

"Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to two comfortable chairs in front of the desk. He walked around to the other side and sat down in the leather executive chair. "Now, before we get started on whatever it is you wanted to discuss with me, I am curious, how did you know that Andrus Masters was really Harry Potter?" the once more dark-haired teen inquired, focusing his attention on Daphne for the moment.

It turned out that getting a straight answer would be more difficult than he had thought. "What do you know about House Greengrass?" Daphne responded. "More specifically, about our business holdings?"

Harry thought for a moment, mentally reviewing the dossier he had just read. "You own several companies in a wide range of industries, which, as I understand it, is somewhat unusual here in Britain. I know that you've been in a bit of a slump for several generations now, though I believe that your fortunes have improved over the past two or three decades."

Though Daphne scowled, her father smiled. "While I'm sure that my daughter isn't particularly thrilled by your phrasing, you are entirely correct. However, what Daphne was referring to is the fact that one of the major subsidiaries of Greengrass Holdings, and, in fact, our most profitable business at this time, is an international transport company that also doubles as a wholesaler." Seeing Harry's confused look, he explained, "We purchase products and raw materials from other countries in bulk and sell them to other companies in Britain." He glanced over at his daughter, who was still sitting with perfect posture. "When Daphne noticed someone about her age that she didn't recognize at the Foundation for the Future fundraiser, she did a little investigating. It wasn't difficult to learn that you claimed to be from Australia, but given that there isn't a Masters family in Australia that grows potions ingredients, it was clear you were lying. Granted, we didn't know who you were until after your interrogation of Malfoy and the others, but given how many of those questions would benefit Harry Potter, it was a small leap of logic to figure it out."

"The proof came when I noticed that you had changed your face, but you hadn't changed what was on it," Daphne said, sounding somewhat proud. "I reviewed the memory in our pensieve, and realized that the glasses 'Andrus Masters' wore were identical to yours."

"I hadn't thought about that," Harry admitted, impressed. "Excellent attention to detail."

Daphne nodded her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"So, what is it that you wanted to discuss?" Harry finally asked.

The older Greengrass stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "As you said earlier, for several generations, my family's businesses have been declining. In order to save the Greengrass fortune, I knew that I needed to learn more about business management. I ended up going to a non-magical university, which taught me a great deal that has allowed me to turn things around so that House Greengrass's position is once more improving. However, what I learned there has also shown me that Magical Britain as a whole is facing problems that, if they are not dealt with, will have grave impacts on both our economy and society."

Harry took a minute to digest this statement. "I would be interested to hear more about these problems, but first I have to ask, why come to me? Wouldn't this be a matter better suited for the Ministry or the Wizengamot?"

"For the time being, the Ministry is in a state of total chaos," the man replied dismissively. "But even if Bones does manage to establish some semblance of order, it still is a massive bureaucracy where those people who hold real positions of power are more concerned with protecting their little fiefdoms than genuinely serving magical Britain. I would know, I worked there for several years," Greengrass added sardonically before letting out a sigh. "Ultimately, the reason that I have no confidence in either organization is that the majority of the individuals in both have demonstrated time and again that they will follow wherever Albus Dumbledore leads them, no matter how disastrous the consequences may be."

At this mention of the headmaster, Harry found himself leaning forward slightly. "You think Dumbledore is causing these problems deliberately?"

Both Greengrasses looked startled. "No, no, certainly not," Adrian Greengrass replied quickly. "I can't imagine any reason that he would deliberately want to ruin magical Britain."

Now it was Harry's turn to be confused. "Didn't you just say you think he is to blame?" he inquired.

"Yes, but I doubt that it is deliberate," Greengrass explained. "Are you familiar with the colloquial term 'ivory tower'?"

Harry shook his head in response.

"It is used to refer to people, often but not always in academia, who are separated from the cares and concerns of real life. Their ways of thinking, especially in dealing with problems, may work well in theory, but fail in practice because they just don't understand the complexities of real life; usually, they fail to anticipate how the average person would respond to certain actions or changes."

"I think I understand," Harry said slowly.

"My concern with Dumbledore is that, while he is a highly intelligent man, he has astonishingly little real-world experience. In fact, you would be hard pressed to find an institution in magical Britain that is more of an 'ivory tower' than Hogwarts. After all, it's funded by the Ministry, and most of the students are not actually relying on the education they receive to get a job – they have connections that ensure a position, if not in the Ministry, then usually either in a family business or working as a liaison with another company. To be frank, the quality of education at Hogwarts really doesn't matter. Whether the headmaster does an exceptional job or not, Hogwarts will continue as it always has. Some people might moan and complain, but even the worst headmasters in Hogwarts history were secure in their jobs for as long as they wanted them."

Given his own experiences with the Hogwarts faculty, Harry could certainly believe the man.

"Dumbledore's many years at Hogwarts, first as the professor of a mandatory class, and later as headmaster, mean that almost every person who has a seat in the Wizengamot spent years being told that he is an authority to whom they should listen," the man continued. "I think this has carried over in later years as well. Now, when Albus Dumbledore speaks, the Wizengamot follows. It's subtle," he admitted, "but it's quite unusual for the Wizengamot to vote against a motion that Dumbledore supports, or to vote for something he opposes."

"If everyone always goes along with Dumbledore, how could that be subtle?" Harry asked skeptically.

Greengrass took a moment to think before responding. "Dumbledore… tries to find the middle ground," he finally said. "Don't get me wrong, compromise is necessary, but often that middle ground has quite a wide range of options that can and ought to be explored and debated. Instead, Dumbledore offers a compromise, and there is surprisingly little discussion after that. Unfortunately, I have noticed that many of these compromises may address the immediate concern but have long-term consequences that are quite undesirable."

"Can you give me an example of that?" Harry requested.

"I'll use one related to business, since that is what I deal with most," Greengrass replied. "The ministry tracks many different statistics to monitor the economy. A few years ago, the annual report indicated an increase in the number of finished goods imported to Britain – that is to say, not the raw materials for companies in Britain to use, but instead, the end product that is ready for sale. Now, imports themselves are not necessarily a bad thing, but it does mean that wealth is leaving our country. An increase in imports, though not ideal, is not surprising. In fact, imports have been going up for years. This particular report highlighted a surprisingly large increase, however, which prompted some concern. Further investigation revealed that the reason for this is that products made in Britain tend to be more expensive, even when considering the extra cost of transporting goods into our country, a result of the incredibly inefficient business practices common in our country.

"Rather than address the real problem, the solution the Wizengamot eventually settled on was to put in place a tariff, essentially a tax on all goods brought into the country, making them more expensive, in the hope that people would be more likely to buy products made in Britain."

"I can see how that could be problematic for someone heavily involved in international transport, but it does seem that would be beneficial for Britain's economy," Harry commented.

"On the surface, you are correct, and as a temporary measure, it could be valid. But when you look at the long-term effect, it's going to hurt the economy instead. A tariff protects local businesses from foreign competition, but the fact is, businesses need competition in order to improve. Imagine playing quidditch, and when your opponent scores a goal, they get ten points, but when your team scores, you get twenty points. Your team is almost guaranteed to win, but you won't get any better because the game is rigged in your favor. And when your competitor gets good enough that they can challenge you even with the handicap you've been given, you only have two options: accept defeat, or increase the handicap, and eventually, that second option just gets to be too much. Long-term protectionism like that only results in inferior products at unacceptably high prices."

Harry had been rereading _Lord of the Rings_, and a passage came to mind. "The wide world is all about you. You can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out," he muttered.

"There was a second part of that tariff that is even more detrimental, in fact. Not only did the Wizengamot put in place a duty on all imports, but they also set a duty on a few exports. Potions ingredients, to be precise, that are, at present, only grown in Britain."

Harry frowned. "Wouldn't that just make things worse?"

"The belief is that because we essentially have a monopoly on those ingredients, we can charge whatever we want, and other nations will have to pay. Supposedly, that export duty brings in revenue for the government, thus reducing the tax burden on our citizens. The problem is that, not only does it generate some hard feelings with our trading partners because we are, in a sense, taxing their citizens, it encourages them to find substitute ingredients that they can grow in their own land so that they no longer have to purchase from us. In the short term, our economy will benefit from that tariff. But in the long term, it will greatly decrease the demand, fundamentally destroying the market for those herbs."

"If Binns actually taught real history instead of always complaining about goblins, more people would see that," Daphne interjected. "Much of Britain's wealth in previous centuries came from the sale of potions ingredients, but that market slowly withered as other countries began finding ways to grow ingredients themselves, or found other ways to brew potions that didn't require our ingredients."

"I have to admit, I understand why many elders of the Wizengamot don't grasp these concepts," Harry said. "I'm not sure I really do, either."

"But you're not making policy. They are," Greengrass stressed. "And rather than consulting experts and learning about the issues involved, they just accept whatever Dumbledore says."

The man paused, frowning thoughtfully. "If you'd like another example that may be closer to home, consider how our country responded after your defeat of You-know-who. Now, that was before my time on the Wizengamot, so I don't know all the debates that went on in the immediate aftermath of the war, but the end result was that people like Lucius Malfoy went free. My understanding is that, based largely on Dumbledore's advice, there was a large push to put the past behind us and focus on recovery and rebuilding our country and economy. But that's like putting a numbing charm on a serious injury. It doesn't truly solve the problem; it just allows us to ignore it. Malfoy and his ilk were thus able to worm their way into society, which is causing an even larger problem now that their crimes have been revealed. That's what I mean when I say that a great many of the decisions the Wizengamot and the Ministry have made in recent decades have been focused on temporary solutions to alleviate the symptoms but don't address the cause of the problem. And a disturbingly large percentage of the time, it all goes back to Albus Dumbledore," Greengrass finished.

Harry nodded. "I'm not going to pretend that I understood everything you said, but I certainly agree with your main point that people put too much trust and faith in Dumbledore," he said. "I'll discuss your other points with some of my advisors, but I'm curious what it is that you want from me."

"From what I saw at your trial over the summer, and your actions with the Foundation for the Future, you are not the type of person to follow Dumbledore mindlessly. I'm not asking you to support everything I support; I'm not claiming I have all the answers. I would just like you to help me raise awareness of the fact that, despite what many people believe, Albus Dumbledore is not always correct. Unfortunately, I think it will take a great deal of effort to convince the public of that fact."

"Let me discuss it with my advisors," Harry decided. "I will get back to you next week and we can start planning how to convince people that Dumbledore is not the next Merlin."

* * *

Adrian Greengrass left the building immediately after their discussion, but, to Harry's surprise, Daphne stayed behind.

"So, are you going to be returning to Hogwarts anytime soon?" she inquired.

Harry sighed. "I'm kind of enjoying being away from it all, but I know I need to go back at some point. At least with Umbridge gone, things should be better."

The blonde girl frowned at this statement. "It may not have improved as much as you think," she said ominously. "After you left, Umbridge stepped up her persecution of the 'undesirable' students, and supposedly the political issues surrounding your escape meant that Dumbledore was unable to intervene."

To say Harry was furious was an understatement. "How could that possibly happen?"

"Politics is all about how people perceive you, and having the boy who many see as Dumbledore's protégé on the run for attempted rape was very bad for Dumbledore's image. I still think he could have done more, but according to McGonagall, his hands were tied." She rolled her eyes. "That's what I wanted to warn you about. A few days ago, McGonagall gave a speech to the entire student body. Officially, the purpose was to ensure students knew the appropriate way to deal with concerns regarding inappropriate actions of faculty members. The subtext, though, didn't paint you in a favorable light. The basic implication was that the faculty had been looking for proof of wrongdoing, and had you come to them, they could have removed Umbridge and fixed everything. But since you ran…" She trailed off.

Harry didn't need her to finish her statement. He understood completely. "So, she's saying it's all my fault that a teacher in Dumbledore's school was allowed to torment students unchecked." _Why am I not surprised? Somehow, they always find a way to blame me._

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm just saying, you may want to return sooner rather than later so that you can tell your side of the story before everyone fully embraces the 'blame Harry' philosophy Dumbledore and McGonagall are pushing."


	33. Chapter 32: Back to School

Chapter 32: Back to School

After Daphne left, Harry remained behind, pacing in the office as he thought about what he had learned. He couldn't stay here forever, he knew, but it seemed that his expectation that everything would be solved once the corruption at the ministry had been exposed had been incredibly naïve. If Daphne was to be believed, Dumbledore and McGonagall were now actively working against him, rather than just passively allowing others to do their dirty work for them. So, how was he to respond?

Harry was still lost in his thoughts as he walked out of the office. Anticipating a need for easier travel between the Foundation for the Future and the Magical Solutions office, they had installed a large vanishing cabinet in an unused (and now, very heavily guarded) room in the Foundation building that linked to one at Magical Solutions. Without even thinking, Harry's feet walked the familiar path as he concentrated on considering his options.

Which is how Harry managed to make it to Chad's office in just three minutes. "I need to do an interview with _Veritas_," the teen announced as he walked inside.

Chad blinked in confusion. "What brought this on?"

Harry explained briefly about his meeting with the Greengrasses, particularly the news Daphne had shared at the end. "I need to get my side of the story out there – get people on my side. According to Daphne, McGonagall said that if I had come to her or Dumbledore after I escaped from Umbridge rather than running away from Hogwarts, the whole matter could have been cleared up easily. Well, I've got a notebook full of copies of complaints that they never responded to that proves otherwise."

Chad stroked a non-existent goatee thoughtfully. "We can do that, certainly. The problem is that a newspaper, especially _Veritas_, only focuses on the facts, and people can interpret facts in different ways."

"I'd say the facts here are pretty clear," Harry argued. "I submitted dozens of formal complaints, and the Hogwarts faculty never did anything. Why should I have believed that they would do anything to protect me from Umbridge?"

The older man was not so convinced. "Yes, but the thing is that you can't actually disprove McGonagall's claims. It wouldn't be tough for the professor to counter that your complaints were minor things that they investigated and dismissed, but they would have acted if it was a matter of student safety and welfare. If people are already inclined to trust Dumbledore - which, y'know, they are - you'll have a very hard time changing their minds."

"Well, short of brainwashing people, I'm not sure what other options I have," came Harry's frustrated reply.

To his surprise, Chad had a speculative look in his eye. "Brainwashing might be a strong word for it, but you're not entirely wrong. Dumbledore has had decades to build up a lot of trust and goodwill in magical Britain. Some people have spent their entire lives being told they should trust him. Dry facts won't have much of an impact; they'll be too quick to just brush it aside with an 'even Dumbledore makes mistakes sometimes'. If you're going to change that, what you need is, essentially, a new way to tell people what to think."

"So, what are you suggesting?" Harry replied with a frown.

"Tell me, Harry, have you ever heard of Oprah Winfrey?" Chad asked intently.

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea who or what that is."

"Well, then, take a seat, young grasshopper," the American began, motioning grandiosely to a chair, "and listen closely as I tell you about one of my people's greatest inventions. An invention that allows a person to reach out and touch the hearts of millions." He paused dramatically, leaning forward for emphasis. "We call it… the talk show."

* * *

As interesting as Chad's ideas were, there was no way to put them into action just yet, which is why Harry soon found himself back at the Foundation building, in an interview with one of _Veritas_' reporters, Doug Caffrey. An hour later, they were finished, and Caffrey quickly left the building while Harry walked over to the transport room, where Peter was waiting.

"How did it go?" the older man inquired.

"Well, enough, I think," the teen replied, resisting the urge to scratch at where the prosthetic scar was once more attached to his forehead. "We were able to cover all the important information, and I think I phrased everything in such a way that it paints the picture we want without violating any of _Veritas_' honesty oaths."

Peter looked thoughtful. "I know the main oath is that the reporters cannot print something they know to be untrue, but, except for Chad, nobody involved with the paper has any connection to you directly, so they should be unaware of any slight mistruths you may have provided. The other oaths only come into play if someone reports that the paper made a mistake, correct? And since the only people that know the truth are already on our side, I highly doubt it will be a problem."

"Yes, but I'd rather not have any outright lies if I can avoid it. I definitely shaded the truth so that people won't realize the full extent in my involvement here, or just how many people outside of Dumbledore's control are willing to help me, but the main thrust of the article was completely accurate." Harry frowned. "Well, so long as you ignore the use of the time turner to escape. I don't want to get Hermione in trouble."

"Even if it's not as effective as you hoped, having your story out there will certainly help. Do you want to wait until after _Veritas_ prints the article before returning to Hogwarts?" Peter suggested.

"No, I'd like to get back right away," Harry replied, having already considered the idea. "That way I'm there when the other students read it for the first time and can respond to any questions then. That'll give McGonagall and Dumbledore less time to put their own spin on things." He glanced at his watch. "In fact, if I leave now, I should be able to make it back to Hogwarts in time for a nice, dramatic entrance during dinner."

Peter chuckled. "Safe travels, then. I'll keep you updated on the progress of our projects here."

"Especially magical television," Harry instructed. "If at all possible, I'd like to have that ready to go by the World Cup."

"We'll do our best," his second-in-command promised.

* * *

With a top speed of more than 200 miles per hour, making the trip back to Hogwarts via his Firebolt only took a few hours. Of course, it was only once he was nearly half way there that Harry realized it would have been easier to take a portkey to the hunting cabin he owned, then fly from there, but by that point, he decided it was just easier to keep going as he had been.

It was half past six on the dot when he set down on the familiar school grounds once more. Pushing open the large front doors, he walked inside, a little surprised that he had managed to walk into the school without anyone noticing. _For all that Hogwarts is lauded as the 'safest place in Britain', it really does have some lousy security._

Still, in this case, that wasn't a bad thing, for it allowed him to reach the Great Hall without being noticed.

Exclamations of shock filled the room as he walked inside and over to the Gryffindor table as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

With a loud cry of 'Harry', Hermione rushed over and grabbed him in a hug. This seemed to open the flood gates, and people from all over the Hall approached to congratulate him on his escape and welcome him back. _At least they're not all against me, _the dark-haired teen thought, though he couldn't help but notice that many students were, indeed, fixing him with less than enthusiastic looks.

Harry glanced up at the staff table. "No Dumbledore?" he asked, looking over at Neville.

"He hasn't been here much the past few weeks," the blond boy responded. "Busy dealing with all the turmoil at the ministry, I think."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement of his friend's statement, then turned his attention back to the students still crowding around him. "It's great to see you all, but this food looks great and I haven't had much to eat lately, so…" It was a lie, of course, but it helped to sell the impression that he'd been living on the streets.

"Indeed," McGonagall announced from the front of the room. "While we are glad to have Mister Potter back, now is the time for dinner. You can talk with him later."

With some grumbles, the crowd dispersed, and Harry took a seat between Neville and Hermione. Loading his plate full of food, he looked around the table.

"So, what did I miss?" the teen asked cheerfully.

* * *

Harry was not the least bit surprised when he was called to McGonagall's office immediately after the meal concluded. He had, in fact, been thinking through the major points he intended to hit during this discussion.

"Thank you for coming, Mister Potter," the professor said as he entered the office. "And, may I say once more, welcome back. It's good to have you here at Hogwarts once again."

"Thank you, professor," Harry replied politely. No need to start the inevitable argument just yet.

"I'm glad that you were able to take care of yourself well enough on your own, though, in the future, if you find yourself in such a situation at Hogwarts, please consider coming to the faculty. This all could have been dealt with much more easily had you done so," she said, fixing him with a stern look.

_Never mind, I guess we're going to have the argument now,_ Harry thought resignedly. "Why in the name of Merlin would I think the faculty could be trusted to do a thing to aid me?" he inquired, making no effort to hide the derision in his voice.

To his surprise, the deputy headmistress seemed taken aback by the question. "Mister Potter, we are always looking out for the welfare of the students," she chided. "Professor Dumbledore in particular has always had your best interests in mind. He went to great lengths to ensure your welfare, both to locate you and to guarantee that you would be safe from corrupt elements in the Ministry until your name had been cleared."

"Professor, you have ignored literally dozens of formal complaints that I have filed," Harry said, speaking slowly for emphasis. "Why would I assume that this time you would act when you have never done so before?"

"Potter, surely you can see that there is a difference between the actions of Dolores Umbridge and the feud between yourself and Professor Snape," the flustered teacher argued.

Harry bristled at her words. "First off, professor, the 'feud', as you put it, between myself and Snape is nothing short of abuse. An adult is using his position of authority to try to make the life of someone decades younger than him miserable, simply because he disliked my father – who is now _dead_. That goes far beyond a simple schoolyard argument. And no, I don't see a difference between the toad and the greaseball."

The teacher's eyes widened as his insult against her colleague. "While you may not agree with Professor Snape's teaching style or demeanor, he has not put the welfare of the students at risk," McGonagall shot back. "Of course we would intervene when it became clear that the so-called High Inquisitor was doing so."

Harry paused for a moment. "You know, you're right, there is a big difference between Umbridge's actions and Snape's. Umbridge had the backing of Fudge and his ilk, complete with corrupt Aurors on hand to support her and enforce her will. To go against her, you would have had to defy the Ministry." His face took on a vicious scowl. "Snape has no such supporters. There is not a single person who would say a word if he were punished for his actions. So, there's no reason for you _not_ to address his misconduct. But, you don't," he said with a shrug. "You let him go on persecuting innocent children, in particular the Gryffindors that you're supposed to be looking out for. So, in light of literally years of neglect, I would be an absolute fool to assume that you would be willing to take on the Ministry on my behalf. I'd have been back in Auror custody within the hour, and probably dead by nightfall."

"You would not have been killed, Mister Potter," the teacher disagreed.

"That corrupt Auror, Gibbon, was laughing about how he could have me kissed by a dementor, supposedly while trying to escape. And, what do you know, that's exactly how they killed my innocent godfather – a man who was being _illegally_ held by the Ministry at Albus Dumbledore's suggestion," Harry snarled.

"Professor Dumbledore had already arranged for trustworthy Aurors to keep an eye on you until you had been proven innocent," she protested. "And when he discovered that you were missing, he had volunteers out searching for you. A great many people went to a great deal of effort to try to ensure you were safe, Potter. I should think that a little gratitude would be the least you could offer them."

"They were helping Dumbledore, not me," Harry countered. "You have already admitted that if I had been found I would have been handed over to my enemies. That certainly wasn't going to benefit me in any way."

"Not all the people at the Ministry are corrupt, Mister Potter. They are not your enemies," the stern teacher insisted. "You would have been fine, and instead of you being on the run for weeks, we would have proven your innocence quickly. And Professor Dumbledore was already investigating the corruption of Minster Fudge and his lackeys. Your information would have been the final piece of evidence he needed."

"How long had he been investigating, and what had he done with his findings?" Harry asked sharply. "How much longer was he planning to wait before he had the criminals punished? And, more importantly, how many more innocent lives would have been ruined while he waited?"

"How many lives will be ruined by the fallout from the exploits of the Foundation for the Future?" McGonagall countered. "The ministry is in chaos. We will be feeling the effects of that precipitous action for years."

"Then Dumbledore should have dealt with that corruption years ago. That's one of his main duties as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot!"

"And he was investigating," McGonagall replied, no less fiercely.

"If Dumbledore really wanted proof, he should have arranged for the attacks on me to be investigating by competent and trustworthy Aurors," Harry insisted. "That could have turned up the evidence he needed. Instead, I almost died on Hogwarts grounds, and he allowed Fudge's minions to sweep it all under the rug." He smirked. "That doesn't say much for his investigation, now does it?"

"He still uncovered many crimes, and has the evidence to have the perpetrators convicted without having to make a public spectacle of it, as the Foundation for the Future did," the transfiguration mistress replied.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And he only revealed that information in an attempt to save face when the criminals had already been exposed. I've no doubt that without the Foundation for the Future, Dumbledore wouldn't have said a word."

This seemed to incense the teacher more than anything else he'd said thus far. "Albus Dumbledore is a great man who does his best to stand against the darkness in our world," McGonagall said icily. "He may not always be successful, but he does the best anyone can hope for. You should be grateful for that."

Harry refused to back down. "As a result of his incompetence, my parents and my godfather are dead. He allowed Umbridge to act almost unhindered during her time here. Just about the only action he has taken is to force me into an apprenticeship against my will, which he has used to force me to waste time in useless classes and to protect Pansy Parkinson from prosecution." Harry cringed mentally. _Oops, I didn't mean to admit that I know Dumbles is using the apprenticeship as justification to get the charges against Parkinson dismissed._ That information hadn't been released publicly.

If the professor had noticed his slip, she gave no sign. "Mister Potter, I have discussed the matter with the headmaster. The whole reason you were required to take those classes is because he had received word that whoever was behind the attack on you over the summer was planning to make another attempt, this time using runes. Runes can be very dangerous if charged incorrectly, and it would have been simple for someone to kill you with an explosion and make it look like you had caused it through a poorly designed runic construct. The whole purpose of you taking those classes was to save your life."

_It's like talking to a wall!_ Harry rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "First off, Professor, if that were the case, I should have been informed so we could discuss the matter. And second, making me take Divination and Creatures didn't actually do anything to keep me safe. The exact same method could have been used to kill me, and investigators would no doubt conclude that I had been trying to study Runes on my own, and thus, blew myself up because of my own stupidity. Preventing me from taking the class actually makes that story a bit more believable because I haven't had any professional instruction." He paused for a moment, shaking his head in sadness and disgust. "I find it amazing that you're so quick to support everything the headmaster does. You yourself said that Divination is a waste of time, and yet, as soon as Dumbledore says I should take it, you're his strongest supporter."

"Well, that's my job," the stern Scot replied with a sigh. Putting a hand to her forehead, she looked down at the desk. When she finally looked back up at him, Harry was surprised by how tired she looked.

"Mister Potter, I will be completely honest with you," McGonagall said, looking as though such a prospect were almost painful. "I do not agree with all of the headmaster's decisions. If it were up to me, you would not have been required to take those classes, and we would have conducted a more thorough investigation into Dolores Umbridge's actions here at school."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the professor held up her hand, cutting him off. "However, it was not up to me. While I understand that you disagree with the apprenticeship, so long as it is in place, I am legally required to obey Professor Dumbledore's wishes regarding your education. And, so long as Albus Dumbledore holds the position of headmaster, I am obligated to support him, even if I don't always agree with what he decides. That is simply part of being an adult. You can't throw a tantrum every time something happens you don't like. And you still must do your job, even if your boss makes a choice you don't agree with."

Harry was, needless to say, shocked by this admission, but he rallied quickly. "If you consider it your duty to support Dumbledore even when you don't agree with his decisions, then I suppose there's nothing I can do or say to convince you to change your mind. And in that case, I'll go back to the dorm. But, before I do, I want to make it perfectly clear that I will not be attending Care or Divination anymore," he stated resolutely. "I would like to be able to take Runes and Arithmancy as I had originally planned, but if that is not acceptable, I will study them on my own time. I don't care how many points you take from your house, or how many detentions you give me; I won't attend useless classes. I'm through wasting my time on Dumbledore's orders."

"I will discuss the matter with the headmaster," the teacher promised.

"Discuss it all you want, I don't care what he says," Harry replied. "But during your discussion, you might want to remind him that he should be careful how far he tries to push me. Unlike you, I will not just go along with whatever he says. I was able to escape from Hogwarts once, and he couldn't find me. There's nothing preventing me from doing it again."

* * *

The next morning when the paper arrived, Harry was pleased to see that his interview with Doug was the front-page article in Veritas. He glanced up at the head table to see McGonagall's reaction, but beyond a tightening of her lips, she gave no sign that she disapproved of what she was reading.

"I'm glad you're able to tell your side of the story." Harry looked over to see Padma Patil approaching from the Ravenclaw table. "I'm not sure if you heard, but McGonagall gave a speech about how to report inappropriate behavior on the part of the professors, as though they hadn't just ignored the whole thing with Umbridge even when people did file complaints. It was just a thinly-veiled attempt to cover their own arses by making you look bad."

"Professor McGonagall wasn't trying to make Harry look bad," Hermione protested immediately.

"She flat out said that if Harry had come to her, the whole matter could have been dealt with quickly and with minimal disruption for the other students," Neville argued.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I do agree that some of the statements could have been phrased differently to make it more clear that Harry is not to blame for what happened," the girl admitted. "I don't agree that it's part of some big conspiracy by the Hogwarts faculty to paint you in a bad light, Harry."

It was Padma who responded. "They did absolutely nothing, and now that people are asking questions about why Umbridge was allowed to get away with it all, they're trying to convince everyone it's Harry's fault, Hermione. It's not just a slight mistake in phrasing. It was subtle, but it was deliberate. And I would think that any friend of Harry's would agree that it's outrageous."

* * *

After breakfast, Harry went to the library to begin his self-study. He hadn't been at it for long when he was interrupted.

"Ahh, Mister Potter, you have returned, as I knew you would." It took Harry no time at all to recognize the breathy tones of Sibyll Trelawney.

"Yes, I have," Harry replied with just a touch of reluctance.

"And yet, I understand that you have decided not to continue with your studies of Divination." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I must warn you, I fear that grave and perilous times lie in your future. You would do wise to take heed, young man."

Harry resisted the urge to smirk. He'd already figured out how he was going to play this one. "Oh, I realize now that I was a fool to ever doubt you," he assured the batty woman, who blinked in surprise. "After all, you predicted the troubles I would face yourself in our first class. You said that around Easter, one of our number would leave us forever. If I had been more willing to listen to you, perhaps I would have been more prepared, instead of stuck living on the streets."

Trelawney seemed taken aback by his statement.

"In fact, that's why I realized that I must not take the class any longer, Professor," Harry continued, amazed that he was able to keep a straight face. "After all, you said that I would leave forever. Since I have returned to Hogwarts, obviously it must have been your class that you were referring to, and I would not wish to try to defy fate as revealed by such an accomplished seer as yourself. Who knows what horrors such an ill-advised course of action might bring?"

"Yes, well, I suppose," the teacher began, looking startled.

Harry cut her off before she could say much. "I realize that you need to get to your class, but I would be interested to hear sometime how you were able to persuade Dumbledore of your gifts," the teen said, trying to sound flattering. "I've heard that he doesn't put much stock in Divination, or, at least, he didn't, but he was positively insistent that I take your class. Perhaps you could tell me the story some time?"

"Of course," the teacher promised, beaming. "And if I received any more warnings or omens related to you, I'll be sure to notify you immediately."

He still had a difficult time even imagining the over-the-top mystic was a real seer, but he had agreed to at least investigate Trelawney's background. And if it turned out that Malcolm was right…

He shook his head as he watched the teacher vanish down the corridor, still convinced it was just too ridiculous of an idea to consider.

* * *

Harry had expected a summons to the deputy headmistress's office in response to the newspaper article, though, to his surprise, it didn't come until after lunch. And when he reported as requested, he was surprised to see someone else in McGonagall's office as well. Harry took a quick opportunity to observe the unexpected visitor. Stooped and shriveled, she looked as though she had been ancient before Harry's parents had even been born.

"Mister Potter, thank you for coming," the professor said with an uncomfortable glance at the much older woman. "This is Griselda Marchbanks, the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority. She would like to speak with you briefly. You are under no obligation to speak with her, however, if you would prefer not to do so. Or perhaps we could arrange another time when the headmaster can be in attendance," she suggested with a small frown.

"I have no problem with talking to Madam Marchbanks now, Professor," Harry said quickly. Clearly McGonagall (or, given her admission at their discussion last night, more likely Dumbledore) didn't want him speaking to the woman, so that was all the reason Harry needed to want to do so.

"Still, it is rather irregular," the professor tried, but the small witch cut her off.

"We've already been over this, Minerva," Madam Marchbanks said loudly. "As head of the WEA, I have the right to speak with students when there are concerns regarding educational matters. But, by all means, go tell Albus. He's at the ministry, trying to do some damage control. I'm sure he'll come running."

* * *

Marchbanks led Harry to a nearby deserted classroom.

"Before we begin, Madam, may I ask you something?" Harry requested, and the old witch nodded. "I've done some investigating to determine where the members of the Wizengamot stand on different issues, and my understanding is that you tend to support the headmaster. Was I mistaken, or has that changed recently? You didn't sound terribly supportive back in McGonagall's office."

"What I supported, young man, was quality education throughout magical Britain," she replied. "I have dedicated my life's work to that goal. I thought that Albus had similar aspirations. Unfortunately, recent events have revealed that I was mistaken. If even half of what I've heard is true, then his negligence this past year has caused a great deal of harm for the students he was supposed to protect."

"I see," Harry replied neutrally. _Looks like not everyone is fooled by Dumbledore's attempts to cover his arse._

"Now, Mister Potter, I've read the article regarding your escape, which touched briefly on Umbridge's exceptionally illegal actions here at Hogwarts. What can you tell me about Umbridge, or any other members of the Hogwarts faculty whose conduct has been unacceptable? And are there any other students who might have other reports to add?"

Harry smiled broadly as he began to speak.

* * *

As the WEA head had predicted, they didn't have long before an unwelcome visitor appeared.

"Ah, Albus, what a surprise," the old witch said wryly.

"Griselda, always a pleasure," Dumbledore replied courteously, though Harry thought he could sense some tension in the man's voice. "May I ask why you felt the urgent need to meet with young Harry?"

"I decided it was best to get the information I needed straight from the griffin's mouth," the witch responded, not the least bit apologetic. "I obviously couldn't get it from you, and you're too busy running around the ministry trying to convince people that you're blameless in this whole affair for me to make an appointment. So, I decided to just come. Mister Potter doesn't seem to mind."

"Not at all, it's been a delightful chat," Harry piped up.

"I will freely admit that I have made mistakes in recent months," Dumbledore said, appearing calm. "What I am trying to do now is help mitigate the damage caused by the way these revelations were made public, and help to fight the chaos that now grips the ministry, and much of our society."

"Wouldn't have been so bad if you'd been doing your job all along," Harry interjected.

Dumbledore frowned, but made no reply to the accusation, instead, turning his attention back to Madam Marchbanks. "I had hoped that I could count on your support during these difficult times," the old man replied serenely. "We have often worked together for the betterment of magical Britain. Is there any reason we cannot do so once again?"

Marchbanks glared at him. "I worked with you because I genuinely believed that you had the best interests of the students in mind. I spoke to you on more than one occasion this past year regarding Dolores Umbridge, and you assured me that you had everything in hand. And now I find myself wondering what else you've lied to me about."

"I regret the way things worked out, but I did my best with the information and evidence I had," the headmaster protested.

"I'm not one of those young fools who have been taught to listen to whatever you have to say, Albus! I've seen the way you work in the Wizengamot. You often remain passive, waiting until your opponents have overextended themselves until you push back, and that's just what you did here. That's a fine tactic to use when you're playing politics, but not when you're playing with the welfare of students in your care." The old witch scowled fiercely. "You let that woman torment students because you knew that when it all came to light, it would make Cornelius Fudge look like a fool for supporting her."

"I have always done my best for the students of Hogwarts," Dumbledore argued.

"I used to believe that," Marchbanks replied, shaking her head. "And more the fool I. You could have stopped this."

"Your faith in my abilities is appreciated, Griselda, but I must remind you that even I have limits to my power and authority."

Marchbanks waved the comment aside as though it were a passing fly. "A technically true statement that is utterly meaningless. Everyone has limits. The question is, did you do everything you could within those limits? And the answer is a resounding no!" The old woman smacked the desk for emphasis. "You could have approached me and requested that I begin an investigation into Umbridge's actions in her position as High Inquisitor. You could have arranged for your pet Aurors to more thoroughly investigate the attacks on Mister Potter. You could have gone to the press. I'm sure that new paper would have loved to run a story exposing the fact that the Senior Undersecretary was torturing students here. And yet, you did none of those. You just waited, allowing her to dig that hole deeper and deeper, completely ignoring that it was students who were paying the price for your… brinkmanship! That is something I will never abide," the witch vowed.

Dumbledore twitched, his eyes shooting to Harry for just a moment before he stilled his expression.

"Regardless, since it is clear that your purpose in coming here today was not about educational matters, I must ask you to leave."

Marchbanks gave no sign that she was disappointed by this. "Very well, Albus. I've seen all I need to already." She turned back to Harry. "Mister Potter, I was deeply impressed by your performance in that farce of a trial over the summer, and our conversation today has just solidified that initial impression. As I understand it, you're looking to get that pesky apprenticeship removed. You'll probably need to appeal the matter to the Wizengamot. When you do, if you would like me to speak on your behalf to testify to your maturity and wisdom, I would be happy to do so. I believe you have amply demonstrated both." She shot the headmaster a rather significant look, which Harry interpreted to mean 'unlike you'.

* * *

Two days later, Harry was surprised to see an article in the Prophet reporting that Griselda Marchbanks had stepped down as head of the WEA. While the report claimed that it had been voluntary, Harry highly doubted that. _So Dumbledore is willing to burn political capital to remove former allies from their positions. Well, his mistake is my opportunity,_ the teen thought as he began writing a letter.

He received a reply the very next day. And the day after that, the Foundation for the Future proudly announced that Griselda Marchbanks had been hired to manage their educational program, offering both tutoring for students over the summers, as well as continuing education for adults throughout the year.

Harry smiled as he read the article in _Veritas_. There were those in magical Britain who were beginning to see through the deception Dumbledore wove. Most people were still fooled, of course, but it was a start. And Harry was sure it would spread. Sooner or later, everyone would realize the truth.


	34. Chapter 33: A Compelling Argument

Chapter 33: A Compelling Argument

Though Dumbledore was busy at the ministry for most of the week, it seemed he returned to Hogwarts during the weekends. It was, therefore, no surprise to Harry when McGonagall informed him that the headmaster wished to speak with him Saturday evening.

The teen was curious how the headmaster would try to spin things in an attempt to portray his actions in a more favorable light. In a way, Harry was almost looking forward to the conversation. It would be fun to rubbish the old man's claims. After all, Dumbledore's actions – and inactions – were inexcusable.

Still, it was always wise to be prepared, which is why Harry had taken some precautions. He took one last chance to double check that the communicator was active, then sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Harry," the teen heard, and he pushed the door open and entered the large office.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harry said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral despite the anger he felt.

"Yes," the long-bearded man replied, looking even more tired and careworn than usual. "I have had some time to think about my actions this past year, and even before that, particularly as they relate to you, and I have come to the conclusion that I owe you an apology. I had the best of intentions, but the outcomes were not something that either of us could consider acceptable, and I would like to clear the air." He gestured to the seat in front of the desk. "Please, will you hear an old man out?"

Harry couldn't help but frown, more than a little suspicious at this sudden change. "Very well," he finally replied as he sat down. "You understand that it will take a great deal to convince me that you are sincere?"

"Yes, when I tried to consider my actions from your point of view, I realized that I had erred greatly. I can only hope that when you understand why I did what I did, that you can see that I have genuinely tried to do what I think is right. I shall tell you everything, and allow you to decide for yourself." Dumbledore paused, and let out a long sigh. "I will ask that you take care not to repeat what I have told you to anyone else. Some of this is delicate information that, if it were to reach the wrong ears, could be problematic to say the least."

"I can agree to that," Harry replied calmly. _I don't need to repeat what you say, Peter's listening in and recording this conversation._

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement, looking over Harry's shoulder, a faraway expression on his face before turning his attention once more to the teen in front of him. "I suppose that it would be best to start, as they say, at the beginning. After years of civil war, I had received word from one of my spies in Voldemort's ranks that he had begun to focus on two families, both of which were members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group of brave men and women who were willing to stand against the darkness that threatened our world during Voldemort's rise. What was particularly concerning to note was that, according to my spy, Voldemort was not so much focused on the parents as he was on the young children of those two families. As you can likely imagine, you are one of those two whom he was, for whatever reason, targeting."

Harry did note that Dumbledore had completely sidestepped the fact that he had been the leader of the Order, but chose to focus on a different point instead. "Who was the other child?" he inquired.

"That is a private matter for that individual and their family," Dumbledore responded gravely. "That person is, as you can imagine, underage, but I have informed that individual's family and will respect their desires for privacy in this issue."

_Is that true, or is there some reason that he doesn't want me to know that it is Neville?_ Harry didn't have any time to ponder this question as Dumbledore continued.

"I still do not know exactly why he was targeting you. Though you had shown signs of accidental magic as a baby, there was nothing to indicate that your magic was exceptionally strong, or that there was anything else unique or special about you that could explain why you had drawn the eye of the dark lord. There are, unfortunately, a great many magical rituals which involve the sacrifice of an innocent life, frequently a child." An expression of loathing crossed the headmaster's face at these words. "I, of course, have never studied such foul magics, so I do not know if that truly was his purpose, but it is certainly a possibility. Regardless of his reasoning, however, his real objective in attacking your family on that Halloween night so long ago was to either kill or capture you."

Dumbledore let out another heavy sigh. "When I became aware of the threat, I notified your parents. They were both very courageous and fully committed to the fight, refusing to allow people like Voldemort and his Death Eaters go unchallenged. However, in light of the threat to your life, they agreed to go into hiding. In order to facilitate this, I informed your mother of a charm I had recently learned about, called the _Fidelius_ charm. This charm conceals a secret within the soul of a living being. By designating a trustworthy secret keeper, they could thus be fully protected from Voldemort."

The headmaster looked down at the desk for a moment, and when he looked up, Harry was surprised to see tears in the old wizard's eyes. "Your parents were good people, and I offered to be their secret keeper myself. They said that they had chosen someone else. I gave your mother all the research I had on the charm, and she performed it just days before the attack. The effect of the charm means that only the designated secret keeper could reveal their location. The day after they had erected the fidelius, I received a visit from who I believed was Sirius Black, who informed me of the secret. Given what we know now, it must have been Peter Pettigrew under the effect of Polyjuice Potion, though, at the time, I did not suspect anything." A sad, rueful smile crossed the man' lips. "Your father and his friends were quite the pranksters in their youths. I would not be surprised if they had made use of such methods to ensure their misdeeds went undetected. Pettigrew played his part to perfection, a deception which led me to believe that Sirius Black truly had been the secret keeper. When poor Sirius was arrested, I myself gave testimony to that effect."

Harry briefly wanted to interrupt and ask if Dumbledore had known that Sirius had been imprisoned without a trial, but he was too focused on the headmaster's words as the man continued his tale.

"I promised your parents when they went into hiding that, should the worst happen, I would do everything in my power to aid and protect you. Unfortunately, when it became known that you were the sole survivor of the attack, many people began clamoring for the right to raise you. Not out of concern for your well-being, you see, but simply because you were the famous boy-who-lived."

Despite his efforts to keep his expression neutral, Harry found himself frowning at the hated title he had been given.

"If your parents had a will, it had been lost in the chaos of the attack and its aftermath. When it became clear that I would be unable to permanently block the attempts of people such as Lucius Malfoy to seize control of you, I fell back on the only option available to prevent such a disastrous outcome. I arranged for you to be placed with your mother's sister. To further protect you, I placed a charm upon you, one that your aunt sealed when she accepted you into her home. So long as you live with her, Voldemort cannot touch you while you are at home." Dumbledore grimaced. "I am sure that your childhood was far from ideal, but it was the best option that I was able to come up with to keep you safe and protected."

Harry found himself nodding along with the headmaster's words. Life with the Dursleys had not been pleasant when he was younger, but it was certainly better than having been raised by the Malfoys.

"Though Voldemort had been defeated, the effects of his insurrection were felt for years afterward. In many ways, we are still feeling those effects today," Dumbledore continued. "At the time, however, our society was in dire straits. The government was on the verge of collapse, our economy was in shambles…" The headmaster shook his head despondently. "And that impacted innocent, less fortunate people as well, not just the wealthy. For example, there was a severe shortage of ingredients, both imported and domestic, that were needed for live-saving potions, resulting in the deaths of many innocent people who could have otherwise been saved, and that was just one problem. As such, there were many people in the Wizengamot who pushed for reconciliation with suspected Death Eaters such as Lucius Malfoy, rather than forcing them into a position where they would choose to continue the war in their master's name. I did not agree with that decision, though I do see some measure of wisdom in it, and once the majority of the elders had voted in favor of that course of action, I felt it better to accede to their wishes rather than try to start a rebellion of my own. With the Ministry hanging on by its fingertips, it would not have taken much for our world to have shattered. And if the Statute of Secrecy had fallen as well, the results would have been truly disastrous for everyone, magical and muggle alike."

Once more, Harry was struck by how old Dumbledore appeared.

The professor shook his head sadly. "I hoped that by keeping a close watch on them, we could determine which ones were truly innocent, or, at least, remorseful, and which ones were simply biding their time until their master returned. Unfortunately, Malfoy and those like him were more cunning than I had hoped, and were able to hide their misdeeds. I was able to find evidence of some crimes, but, despite my best efforts, it was not enough to overcome their growing influence in the Ministry."

The old man's face was a picture of misery. "As has become blatantly obvious thanks to the Foundation for the Future, I failed. I failed abysmally, and others paid the price." More tears fell. "I will forever be haunted by those failures, but at the time, I did the best that I could. In many ways, I am grateful to the Foundation for their efforts to expose the crimes that were being committed right under the Ministry's nose, for though we will inevitably face great difficulties and trials because of the social unrest they have caused, that may be preferable to allowing such heinous crimes to be committed without anyone noticing. I wish that they had come to me, and we could have found a way to deal with the problems in a manner that did not so negatively impact our very civilization, but it is clear that they judged my efforts inadequate, and felt it best to use their own methods."

This was not the first time Harry had heard that there had been serious consequences because of the Foundation's scheme, though he was unaware of what those may be. He could believe it, however. After all, look at how his actions as Justice had backfired, and innocent people had paid the price for his choices.

"Though it is likely that the Wizengamot could have found a better way, the fact is, they made their choice, and we must all do the best we can to work with it. As I said nearly two years ago after your brave attempt to protect the Philosopher's Stone, I have known since that fateful Halloween night that Voldemort would, at some point, return, and I have concentrated my efforts on ensuring that we are prepared to defeat him. Sometimes, that unpleasant necessity forces us to accept solutions that are less than ideal. For example, when Peter Pettigrew was mysteriously captured and his crimes revealed, I pressed for a more thorough investigation rather than accepting what had been presented at face value. It is possible to implant fake memories into an innocent person such that, even under Veritaserum, they would claim to have committed crimes for which they were innocent. I was worried that perhaps this had happened to Pettigrew, and that the whole affair was an attempt to free one of Voldemort's most dedicated followers – a man who was, reportedly, one of the dark lord's most trusted lieutenants. As such, I suggested that Sirius be held for a few days until an investigation could be completed. I had hoped that, as he had already endured Azkaban for so long, that a few more days would not matter, and would even be better for him. After all, I had received reports that Lucius Malfoy was planning to kill him in the hope of securing the Black fortune for himself. Unfortunately, I underestimated Malfoy's influence in the Auror Department, and his corrupt contacts were able to attack Sirius in a way I never imagined." Dumbledore looked sorrowfully down at his desk. "Though I know that I only played a small part in the death of a good man, that fact is of little consolation, and shall never forgive myself for what happened."

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, then turned his attention back to the dark-haired teen. "You have probably already realized this, but it is for this same reason that I agreed with the Parkinsons for their daughter to be punished here at Hogwarts, rather than through the Ministry. Though Pansy's actions were reprehensible, if she were to be expelled and formally charge for her crimes, it would simply push the Parkinsons away at a time when we must stand united. Her family is fully aware that any further misdeeds will be harshly punished, and they have agreed to use their not inconsiderable fortune and influence to aid in the fight against Voldemort. Rather than forcing them to be yet another problem, they are now part of the solution. Sadly, it is not an ideal solution, but compared to the horror that awaits us all - and people such as yourself and your friends in particular - if we are not prepared when Voldemort finally returns, it is our only option. After he has been dealt with, perhaps we can reconsider our position, but until then, we must do all we can to prepare."

Dumbledore paused once more. "And now we come to perhaps the greatest way that I have wronged you. For I have watched you more closely than you can imagine, and I have seen for myself the magnificent person that you have become. And yet, despite everything that you had accomplished in your first year, when I learned that you were seeking emancipation, I feared for your welfare. I never wanted to force you to abandon your childhood so early, or to have such weighty decisions thrust upon you when you were but a boy. And so, in my foolishness, I sought to protect you from that burden. I was thinking only of my vow to your parents to keep you safe, and yet, I failed to consider that an essential part of childhood is the freedom to make mistakes. It is almost certain that the Ministry will not approve a petition of emancipation for you, even if we were both to appeal together, but I believe that we can find a way to give you the freedom you deserve while still ensuring the protection an apprenticeship would offer you."

The headmaster smiled as he continued. "If you should so desire, I would be honored to help you become the man I know you can be. However, if you would prefer, I am perfectly willing to switch so that you will instead be apprenticed to someone else. For your own safety, I will insist on it being a responsible adult in good standing with the ministry, but you may choose for yourself who that person may be. You might want to consider Arthur Weasley, or perhaps Augusta Longbottom."

Harry nodded. He would have to think about it, but either of them would be a good choice.

"Above all, Harry, I just want to apologize. I should have remembered that it is often difficult for people with less life experience to see the bigger picture, and understand how small actions fit into the larger world. I have been so focused on preparing for the greatest threat of our time that I failed to consider how you would view the much smaller but more immediate challenges that present themselves."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking over Harry's shoulder wistfully.

"I wish I could do more to make amends, but all I can do is apologize, and hope that you can find it in you to forgive an old man for his mistakes. I never wanted to hurt you; I only wanted to fulfill my promise to your parents and help you, but it seems over the years I have forgotten what it is to be young. It is clear that you and I see things differently, and I should have considered that. It will take time, but I hope that we can find a way to bridge this gulf that has grown between us. If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to bring them to my attention. Though I am very busy now with the anarchy that now grips the ministry, I will always find time for you whenever you would like to talk. I would ask you, however, not to speak of this to your friends or anyone else, particularly while we are still trying to solve the issues that have sprung up between us. I do not want to be seen favoring anyone, and, as I said earlier, some of this information could be dangerous in the wrong hands. But anytime that you have something you would like to discuss, my door will always be open."

"I understand, Professor," Harry promised with a nod.

"Then thank you for coming," the old man said graciously.

"Thank you, sir," the teen replied as he stood and began to exit the room.

"And Harry," Dumbledore added before the teen reached the door. "I want to make one thing perfectly clear. Even if we do not see eye to eye on every issue, you are a good man." Harry turned back to look at the headmaster, who smiled warmly. "Your parents would be so very proud of you. I know that I can claim little credit for the kind of person you have become, but, notwithstanding, I am proud of you as well."

"Thank you, headmaster," Harry replied, a little overwhelmed.

"Have a good night, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling gently.

"Good night, sir."

* * *

Harry waited until he had left the gargoyle behind and rounded a corner before pulling out the communicator.

"Thanks for listening in, Peter. I guess there was nothing to worry about."

There was a pause before the other man replied. "So, what did you think about that conversation?" To Harry's surprise, Peter sounded almost worried.

Harry frowned. Dumbledore had suggested that he not talk with his friends about this while they were still working things out, but Peter wasn't exactly a friend. As his main employee and advisor, it made sense to keep the older man in the loop. "Well, while it is frustrating that we've been working at cross-purposes for so long, it is nice to know that we have similar goals, even if our methods of achieving those goals are sometimes different. I think that with some more communication, we can ensure that we are, if not working together, at least not working against each other."

There was a long pause. "What about his suggestion to keep Sirius Black imprisoned in Azkaban while the Aurors investigated to see if he had committed any crimes?"

Harry paused. "I certainly think it was the wrong way to go about it, but I can understand where he is coming from."

"What about the apprenticeship?" Peter continued.

Harry resisted the urge to rub his forehead. This one still bothered him. "I can accept that he was trying to look out for me, but I think he should have gone about it a different way."

"And his decision for Pansy Parkinson to not be prosecuted?" There was a sort of tension in Peter's voice that Harry had never heard before.

"What she did was certainly wrong, but like the headmaster said, it's better for her to be part of the solution instead of just another person making the problem worse."

There was a long pause. "Harry, I want you to go somewhere that you can be sure you can't be overheard. Not your dormitory. Go to a deserted classroom with no portraits."

Confused, Harry did as instructed. It took a few minutes to find a place that worked, but finally he located a suitable room on the fourth floor. "Alright, I'm here, what's your concern?"

Peter had not finished his instructions, however. "First, get into the trunk that takes you to Timeland. Make sure you shut the lid so there's no chance of you being overheard, but don't go through the vanishing cabinet."

Harry shot a locking charm on the classroom door, then did as he was told.

"Alright, now can you tell me what you're so worried about?" he asked wearily.

"I'm almost certain that Dumbledore used magic to compel you to accept what he said," came the reply.

It took the teen a moment to process this statement. "Explain," Harry said curtly.

In his mind, Harry could almost see the customary frown Peter wore when thinking deeply. "I will never claim to be an expert on compulsion magic," the older man finally said, "but I can tell you what little I know."

Harry settled into the chair at the desk in the trunk while waiting for his friend to begin.

"Generally speaking, a compulsion charm is recognized as being a magical method of ensuring the target selects one particular choice among a number of acceptable options. That is to say, a compulsion charm is not strong enough to force you to choose something that you would never consider doing, which is why, unlike the Imperius curse, it is not considered an acceptable excuse for having committed a crime." Peter paused briefly. "Flitwick had a good example he used while explaining it. Imagine several plates, each with different kinds of cookies. A compulsion charm could all but guarantee that you choose to eat a particular type of cookie. Even if you were on a diet, you would probably still follow the compulsion and eat the cookie because, deep down, you like cookies and want to eat one. It takes a very strong will to resist, especially if you're not aware that the charm exists. But if one of those plates had rotten human flesh, no compulsion charm could possibly be strong enough to get you to eat any of that."

"So, that's why it's not considered an acceptable excuse during a trial," Harry realized. "You can't say that you were forced to do something if it that action was one you were already somewhat considering in the first place."

"Yes, but that does get tricky," Peter cautioned. "I don't know enough about the way the law is written or enforced, but I don't think it's quite that cut and dry. Suppose a compulsion charm is used to convince a person that the law does not apply in a particular situation. Could a good person be led to do something they would never consider acceptable under different circumstances?" He sighed. "I don't know. I can see arguments for and against. But legally, given that compulsions seem to be almost impossible to detect and there is no good way to determine exactly what they were pushing the target to do, I can understand why they are not generally permitted as part of the defense during a trial."

Harry wanted to protest the idea that a good person could be convinced the law does not apply, but the words died in his throat. For just a moment, his mind flashed back to the brothel when he had deliberately killed two men, and then to the time that he had, in essence, tortured some of his fellow students to punish them for their attacks against the muggleborns. "Yes, I can see that," he finally said with a touch of reluctance. "Though I'm still not sure that I was targeted by a compulsion. After all, I obviously don't 'deep down' want to be deceived by Dumbledore."

Peter hmm'ed softly. "Are you sure about that?" he asked eventually. "Not that you want to be deceived, but can you truly say that it would not be nice to learn that Dumbledore is honestly on your side, and doing his best to help you? That the power struggles between the two of you have just been a result of miscommunication, and that he genuinely wants what is best for you?"

Once again, the disagreement died in Harry's throat. "No, that does sound nice," the teen admitted. "It would greatly simplify things." He knew that his fight against Dumbledore would be incredibly difficult, likely even more challenging than his struggle against Voldemort. The idea that Dumbledore was not really his enemy, and thus, the fight was unnecessary would be very agreeable if true.

"So how can we tell if I was magically compelled? Or compulsed, or whatever the word is?" Harry asked after a moment.

"I don't know for certain if this will work, but I'd like to try having you listen to the conversation again," Peter replied slowly. "Listen to Dumbledore's arguments, and see if you agree with them like you did when you were in his office. Try to think of facts to counter his claims, and see if keeping those in mind changes your impression of him when finished."

"Okay, that sounds reasonable," Harry agreed.

Peter began the recording, and Harry found himself frowning as he listened. The audio quality wasn't great, but he could easily understand what was being said, and it didn't take long for him to notice that Dumbledore's arguments were not nearly so persuasive this time around. All sorts of thoughts and ideas came to mind, easily countering what the headmaster had said.

"You're right," Harry realized, even before the recording had finished. "He completely ignored some very important issues, and I didn't even bring them up. I just went along with what he said without question."

"Yes, that's what I was concerned about. Things like the lack of a trial for Black and how quickly Dumbledore excused Parkinson's actions have been very hot-button issues for you in the past, but you let it pass without mention."

"I didn't see him use his wand, though," Harry noted with a frown.

"Like I said, I don't know much about compulsion charms, but I think it would be simple to set them up ahead of time, or perhaps, to have an enchanted object that affects anyone in the room," Peter theorized.

Harry frowned as an unpleasant thought came to mind. "Suppose that you're right about an enchanted object affecting anyone who visits Dumbledore in his office. What do you think the long-term effects of regular exposure to such a charm would be?"

"That would likely depend on what the exact effect of the charm is," his friend said slowly. "Based on what I saw from you, I would hazard a guess that it has something to do with accepting what Dumbledore says without question."

"And to obey him," Harry added thoughtfully. "Just a few days ago, when I confronted McGonagall about everything that she has done and not done at Hogwarts, she said that it was her duty to do what Dumbledore said."

"That's not necessarily the result of a charm, but after years of compulsions, I wouldn't be surprised if that sort of mindset had become ingrained in her," Peter agreed.

Another, even more horrifying thought came to mind.

"According to my mum's diary, my parents believed and trusted Dumbledore a great deal while in school and shortly thereafter, but that respect gradually decreased after they graduated. They assumed that it was because they were seeing how bad things were in the real world and felt that Dumbledore's response to Voldemort was ineffectual. But if they had been compulsed, and those compulsions faded over time…"

"That makes sense," Peter said quietly. "And looking back, I wonder if I was in the same situation. The head boy and girl make regular reports to the headmaster in his office. I did trust Dumbledore while in school, it was only after I left that I began to doubt him."

Harry was silent for a moment. "From what you said, I would guess that a person who was naturally inclined to trust academic authority like the headmaster would be even more vulnerable to a charm like that."

"If we are correct about the existence of the charm, then yes, such a person would be more heavily affected by it."

Harry sighed softly. "Hermione seems conflicted about everything that has happened, but she's still quick to say that Dumbledore is doing his best. She refuses to even consider that the headmaster's more questionable actions may be intentional."

"There's no way to prove it, but that does seem to fit the pattern," Peter replied with some hesitation.

Any residual desire to trust the headmaster vanished like water in a blast furnace. A part of Harry wanted to storm back up to the office and curse the old man six ways to Sunday, but he knew that would be foolish.

"How do we get rid of it?" the teen demanded. "Or how do we prove it?"

"I don't know how to remove the influence," Peter admitted. "I don't even know how we'd go about getting proof of the compulsion's existence. I'll talk with Mac, but I just don't know what the best way to proceed from here is. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be doing McGonagall or Hermione any harm." He paused, as though reconsidering his words. "It certainly isn't doing the students at the school any favors, but I don't think there is a need to act immediately."

To be perfectly blunt, Harry really didn't care about whether McGonagall could be freed from the charm's effect or not. It lessened his animosity for the woman, true, but she was an adult, and her welfare was her own concern. Hermione, however, was a different story. _There is no way I am going to let that manipulative fossil mind control one of my friends._

"Tell everyone at the next office meeting," Harry instructed his second-in-command. "I realize it may take time, but I want ideas for how to get rid of this - and for how to bring Dumbledore down. He doesn't know it, but he just started a war. Unless he is willing to swear an unbreakable vow to publicly confess to all of his misdeeds and do everything in his power to make amends, I will use every resource at my disposal to destroy him."


End file.
